The wolfhunters are the most recent Faction to form and were, some say, never meant to exist! Their arrival into the world was, to all intents and purposes, an accident! Way back at the beginning, when the first people were dropped into this scary new world there were no Wolfhunters. And the world existed that way for a long, long time. Until, that is, one, some would say crazy, others would say genius, Warlock by the name of Lychar Morova decided to meddle in things he should have known to steer well clear of! Sometimes the best of intentions have devastating consequences.

 

Over many years, after the main Warlock settlement was established, the Warlocks began to spread themselves out into the world. Embedding themselves into the different factions and establishing themselves amongst different settlements. Weaving themselves into the fabric of day-to-day life within the different Factions. Though they knew that wherever they went they were never going to be trusted, they knew their powers would make sure they were at least tolerated amongst the people. This was due to the fact that a Warlock was always seen as a benefit to a town or village, able to dispense things such as healing spells or love potions. They became a sign of a towns status and wealth. And of course, their services always came with a cost!

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For a village to have its own Warlock, was seen as a symbol of its ambition and importance, with some opposing settlements getting into bidding wars to secure their very own Warlock! The Warlocks were happy with this situation as it allowed them to gain power directly under the noses of the people they purported to serve. Information would be fed back to the main Warlock headquarters regarding the state of whichever faction they were living amongst, meaning the Warlocks were always well informed about the goings-on around the land. And all the while the townsfolk were happy in their ignorance, as they were cautiously comforted by their presence. Warlocks often lived on the outskirts of a settlement and remained aloof and largely separated from the town, but people are people and they liked to talk and to gossip. So the Warlocks were always able to keep tabs on whatever was going on. Knowledge is power.

 

Lychar Morova was not the greatest Warlock that had ever emerged from the Azure Pool, but what he lacked in magical ability he more than made up for in raw enthusiasm. His dream was to get out into the world and make a difference. He knew he was destined to be a great Warlock Master, he just needed his chance to prove it. So when the first request for a Warlock came in, he jumped at the opportunity. He couldn’t care less where it was or which faction it was with, he just knew he could make a huge difference to those people’s lives and be revered the way he always dreamt he would be.

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Little did Lychar know though, that his placement call had come in from one of the most remote settlements in the known world. His future home was to be a village on the very edge of the known world. A tiny remote village at the furthest frontier of the Nordmann kingdom, many miles away from his Warlock base. Weeks of travel lay ahead of Lychar, but he was not perturbed by this. Far from it! If anything he was even more driven to serve. He would be the last Warlock at the edge of the world! He would be loved, feared, respected and revered.

When, after months of hard travel, he finally arrived at the settlement he was to now call home, he was not warmly welcomed. The people, hardened and remote, looked upon him with distrust and open hostility. And this is how it would stay for Lychar for many years. Existing at the edge of the village at the end of the world. The villagers would visit whenever the need arose but the suspicion and distrust of him lingered. His dream of being revered was in tatters and he grew old and lonely.

 

One particularly tough winter (it was tough all year round being so far north), following a particularly tough summer, the village found itself short of food. The animals they hunted for food were seen less and less, until one day they were not seen at all. The meagre food reserves they had lasted a short while, until they didn’t. And so the people grew hungry and desperate. Slowly starvation set in. The hunters still diligently went out every day in the hope of trapping a Northern Hare or a hunting a Tundra Stag. And everyday they returned, their hands as empty as their stomachs, eyes full of apology and raging hunger. The snares and traps rusted. The fishing holes froze over. The situation was grave.

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The villagers visited Lychar more in these dark days to plead with him to help them. To make the sun shine or bring the animals back. But his talents were sadly limited and he wasn’t able to improve their situation. And he too was starving.

 

And then, one dark, frozen morning the village was awoken by the haunting sound of a tortured, desperate howling. The hunters of the village gathered together before setting off to find the source of the ungodly noise. The howling appeared to be emanating from an area at the northern edge of town where a group of snares were set, close to where Lychars hut was. He too had been awoken by the noise and joined the Hunters.

 

Upon arrival they found a large male wolf, one of hind legs trapped in a vicious snare. Food was short for not only the Humans, but the Wolves too, and to see a wolf this close to the village was rare. They normally kept their distance but this unfortunate beast, driven by a desperate hunger, had come too close, in search of a meal only to find himself on the menu!

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Lychar stood with the hunters as they gathered around the stricken wolf and, as he listened to them discussing the best ways of killing the wolf, he was struck with a powerful idea. An idea that would not only save the village from starvation, but also gain him the respect and love he had always craved. But he would need the wolf alive!!

 

After a brief, aggressive argument, followed by a small display of his Warlock powers, Lychar 'persuaded' the hunters to let him take the animal! The wolf was caged and brought to his hut. And so he went to work.

 

He knew he would have to work quickly; the villagers were starving to death. So he wasted no time and got to work immediately. His plan to save the them was fiendishly simple; he would use the captive creature to imbue the whole village with the hunting skills of the Wolf. The greatest hunting creature to ever exist. This would be what would save them. Intelligence of the human aligned with the hunting skills of the wolf! He would go down in history. But he realised very quickly that he only had one side of the equation and was missing one vital part to finish. Without it his incantation would not work. He needed a Human specimen.

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And so that night he stole into the village and took a young boy from his bed. And as he was removing the boy from his warm bed, he reassured himself that the village would understand the sacrifice. They may be angry at first but once they had full bellies they would accept this unpalatable necessity.

 

He took the boy, under a sleep spell, into his hut and laid him on the floor next to the wolfs cage. He knew this was the only way. And so, with a heavy heart, he began his dark spell.

 

The boy and the wolf sacrificed for the greater purpose. Once the spell was completed, a spent Lychar collapsed to the ground exhausted. And as his consciousness faded he convinced himself he had done the right thing. He had just saved the village. What Lychar was not to know as he slept was, that while the spell had worked, it had done so in a way that he had not anticipated.

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Every man, woman and child awoke from their beds that morning feeling somewhat changed. They could smell things they’d never smelt before. They could hear the slightest noise and their eyes were able to make out details previously unseen in the dim morning light. And as each person in the village laid eyes on their loved ones, they let out howls of despair and confusion. Each and every person was now half-human, half wolf! Their bodies resembling a human, but their heads and senses were that of a wolf! What had happened??

 

Confusion reigned.

 

And while this confusion raged through the village, a mother awoke to find her child gone. Where he had slept, there was now just an empty bed. Her child was gone!! But somehow she was able to sense him still. To smell him! So with her new found ability, she was able to trace the path her boy had taken, tracking his movement out to the Warlocks hut.

 

When she got there she threw open the door and witnessed a sight no Mother should ever have to see. Beside the desiccated body of the wolf lay her boy. His body nothing more than an emaciated husk. And in the centre of the hut, lay the sleeping Warlock. As she approached, Lychar awoke, the realisation of what had occurred hitting him immediately!

 

And so it was that In the village on the edge of the world the grief crazed mother tore his delicate body apart.

 

And Lychars name would forever be remembered.