In the following documents, the history of the mysterious wolf-men race of the ulvur (up to the current day) will be presented. As these documents are based on the journal entries and various scribblings of a missing chronicler of the Compendium, Hamarith Harrand, they are not to be taken as official documents and are currently open for discussion. They are however very detailed, and the chronicler in question was during his time in the Library's service a clearly sane and highly intellectual young man, so perhaps there is in fact some sort of truth in the extraordinary tales he recounts.


Prologue: The Lost Chronicler
Journal entry, Fallen Leaf 19th, 1657

he myths of where the mysterious wolf-men known as the ulvur come from are many and vast, but learned from various sources; mainly elven, this legendary beastfolk might have played a bigger part in the past of the world than what we at first even dared to imagine. But if so, why have they not been mentioned in the ancient scrolls as anything more than legends?

I will try to discover the truth behind this mysterious race, but so far, all I can offer are mere speculations. What seems to be accurate though, is that the ulvur are not some kind of demons or wraiths of dark powers; even less the cursed, moon-struck men the tellers of urban legends in the Cyhalloian settlements so persistingly warns us travellers about. There is something ancient and ethereal about them, yet they seem to be creatures of flesh and blood just like the next man, elf or whatever that dwells in the world, and not necessarily puppets of evil.

The cold bites, and even my sturdy guide seems to become less and less enthusiastic about the long road ahead. Cyhalloi may be a beautiful, wintery wonderland in the daily sun, but soon the night will fall, and the Cyhalloian nights are far from kind. Still, I will not let such things hinder me.

The recent, rumoured battles between the ulvur and snow trolls, and even some of the sinister Kasumarii tribe has troubled the elders of the Ximaxian Academy greatly, and even if our king will not pay heed to their warnings, this matter must be inspected closer. Travelling as far north as possible, I will search for any sign of the ulvur and try to record things as I see them with my own eyes. My funds should be enough to hire a couple of trustworthy bodyguards; at least with trust as far as money will buy it. Whatever is the trade of the ulvur; be it the savage, bloodthirsty beasts the locals claim they are, or indeed something more and perhaps even a race sentinent at our very own level, I will recount in my documents.

If i return.

-- Haramith Horrand, chronicler of the Great Library

Hamarith Harrand had volunteered as researcher for the Compendium and was sent out in the Library's name to the cold, northern lands of Cyhalloi; the east island in particular, in order to investigate the recent, well-founded rumours of battles between the snow trolls, the Kasumarii tribe and the mysterious Ulvur. When he had not returned after the designated time he had planned to spend on his research (that is several years), a scout party of volunteers was sent on an expedition to discover what might have happened to him. All of the Cyhalloian locals kept silent about him, but after hours of persuasion, intimidation and various forms of bribes these half-torn, weathered pages of Haramith's journal were finally recovered. We have managed to separate what he wrote about the daily happenings from the actual records of ulvurian myth. These records are obviously not complete, and several parts are missing still, but a basic flow is evident, and with things related to both our own and the elven mythologies. Thus, we have done our best to integrate the already evident myths concerning the ulvur with what Haramith has written, and hope that we could manage to fill most of the gaps. We should also mention that these writings is based on tales from the ulvur's own point of view, and thus they should not be taken as actual facts.

Chapter I:
Of The Beginning Of Things

In the beginning, there was Ginnungarja, an infinite cloud of mist. It was everything, and yet it was nothing; for all that surrounded it was the great Nothingness; the Never, and yet as mist, Ginnungarja had no form; no body or shape. But at some point of turning, there came to be two opposite elements in each end of Ginnungarja. One was of infernal, burning fire, and the other was of the coldest of ice. As Logor, the fire, and Nifel, the ice met, a chaotic battle between the elements errupted, and from the clash sparks flew and were engulfed by the Nevermist; thus giving form, body and shape to parts of the mist. And the very greatest of the sparks gathered many other sparks to itself, and it grew into an element of its own; almost equal to Logor and Nifel. And as of this, this new element came between the two battling ones and brought peace to them; uniting them and itself in a perfectly balanced trinity. The new element grew and grew into a beautiful Ash-Tree; rooting in the fiery core that was Logor, and its crown touched the frozen roof that was Nifel. Surrounding the Tree and floating above Logor was now a great sea; another of the great sparks from the elemental battle. It cooled the top of Logor's burning realm, and the fire stiffened and became the foundations of stone that the ground has rested upon ever since.

As time passed, the stone and the Great Tree came to grew into each other; merging and intervening, until the world as we know it at last was made whole. Logor's fire now burned deep within the world, and the roots of the great tree, its trunk and branches now joined the foundations of stone to keep the earth ground firm and steady, and its crown was now the only thing visible on the surface in the shapes of the forests, grass, bushes, mosses and all other greenery. The stone had grown into tall mountains that touched the very breath of Nifel; for that was what the clouds in the sky came to be called. The sea now rested in the great hollows of the world, and broke off into various shapes that constituted all the lakes and rivers.

Two more of the great sparks had now also risen, and these took their places in the sky, and circled around the world in an enternal course. They were Ho-loga; the sun, and Mon-loga; the moon, and thus the lapse of the day and the night came into the world.

As the third element had divided and merged its body with Logor to form the world, its great spirit had now both the great earth, the sea and all plants as host; though still connected to Nifel, and the eternal Ginnungarja that surrounded them all. The third element let thus its innermost essence awaken, and it now had a spirit. It was now Rimjora; the All-Mother; the Creator; the One Mother, and she let her great spirit split into lesser parts; yet connected still. Her essence was in all, but even so, the new little spirits gained essences of their own. Rimjora now took a new shape; a great, silvery wolf, and whenever in that form she would go under the name Ulrivja; the Mother of Wolves, and the first spirits that emerged from her own came to take the same shapes as her, but much smaller. Eons passed, and more spirits came from Rimjora. Slowly they grew into a multitude of beings; each with their own part to play in the drama that was the world. Rimjora guided them, told them secrets, loved them, and let them become one with her again, as there would contstantly awaken new spirits to live in the world. The endless cycle was completed; birth, life and death, and through the new spirits, the world itself lived, as they lived through the world. And Rimjora was the one who would ever direct the whole show. Nature had come to be.

At this point, the oldest and fairest of Rimjora's children; the wolves, were blessed by a spark of Ginnungarja itself. Rimjora gave a small part of them different essences. Their minds would grow, and thus they became sentient. These new wolves felt as if they had awoken from an unearthly long sleep, and as if in a dream they had been told by Rimjora, in her own special way, that they must watch over her world where and when she cannot, and that they must also guide and watch over their own kin, the wolves, the most. And so it came to be, that the new wolves changed in shape, and their new minds became stronger and stronger. And yet as they discovered new secrets; the arts of creating things of their own and such, they never left Rimjora's side. They always lived and walked close to her, both in flesh and spirit, and built up great halls of their own. Rimjora gave them the empty shells of which the spirits now rejoined Rimjora's essence to create their tools and houses and all the other things. They were still as close to their wolfkin as they had ever been, but they stayed away from the other creatures of the world, unless when hunting, and instead watched them in secret. But there were some exceptions made for ancient, powerful spirits that through Rimjora's essence could teach them her lores. The new wolves took a new name to distinguish themselves from the old wolves, yet pay tribute to their common affinity. They were now the ulvur.

Chapter II:
Of The Ulvur And The Other Races

By the weave of the Nevermist, time passed for countless seasons, and new beings emerged from Rimjora's womb, and some of them were very alike the ulvur, both in appearance and mind. The first of these new, sentient races were the alver; the Elfkind. They were fair and wise like the ulvur, but they did not share their affanity with the wolves. From which branch of Rimjora's ethereal tree-body these enigmatic creatures came from none now can tell save Rimjora herself. Clear it was however, that the alver loved and cherished their All-Mother almost as much as the ulvur themselves. And the ulvur sensed this, and so they let a heavy part of their divine mission of guidance for Rimjora's children concern the alver. With the help of their old tutors of Rimjora's lore; her powerful spirit-children, the ulvur taught the alver the arts of hunting, crafting, building and such material business, but also the lores of Rimjora, and how to be a true part of her world. Long the two races lived in peace together, and many of the alver joined the ulvur in their roles as guardians of nature.

Then came the dvargar; the dwarf-kind. They were not tall, but they were strong and proud, and they took great pleasure in the art of crafting, and the skills of the dwarven smiths would soon surpass even those of the ulvur. The dvargar did usually not take much time for the ulvur's teachings of the lores of Rimjora, but they still showed respect to their All-Mother and knew what to do and what was against Rimjora's will and needed to be avoided..

Shortly after the dwarves had come, the maner saw the light of the day. They called themselves humans, and they were tall like the alver, but not as fair. Their appearances were more varied, but they all still shared common traits. The maner were fast learners, and loved especially the arts of crafting, building and hunting. They were the first to doubt the ulvur's teachings. As their minds became lost in the dealings of wordly matters, crafting arts and peculiar systems of society, their bond to their All-Mother became weaker and weaker. Some of them still took great pleasure in the lores of Rimjora, but more and more of them cared less and less for them, and soon, some maner would forget them completely. This concerned the ulvur and the alver, whereas the dvargar cared more for their exchange of crafting ideas with the maner. However, the dvargar were noble and stubborn still, and usually kept more to themselves and their smithing arts, and the maner became more and more restless and longed to discover and invent things which to most other races seemed highly unecessary. The ulvur and the alver tried to desperately talk sense into both the dvargar and the maner, but not many of the two races would listen. And as of this, the first dark thoughts were born amongst the young races. Internal struggles, clan wars, greed, jealousy, bloodlust and the like would torment not only the races themselves, but also Rimjora's own world. This madness was even join by the newer races, some of which were devious from the start, and some even true monsters. They came to be called the tursar. Something beyond the young races' own minds had disturbed the balance of the world and the cosmic trinity itself. The ulvur did not know what, but they knew that not even the darkest thoughts could have turned so many pure-hearted creatures, and especially not any children of Rimjora, wicked in such a short time. So they made a painful decision. They broke their spiritual oath to Rimjora, and forced themselves to leave the guidance and peacemaking to who they trusted the most, the alver, and left the chaos to search for answers to the dark riddles.
They did not have to search long.

Chapter III:
Of Uhrum And The War Against The Chaos

In the darkest depths of the Ginnungarja, a great many-coloured spark had manifested into a great void; an abyss into the very chaos itself. This void had only grown and grown since the spark had touched the Nevermist, and it had outgrown Rimjora's world itself a thousandfold since long. This great chaos now seemed to surround the world and the trinity; constantly expanding. Uhrum the ulvur called it, and from this immense void dark spirits had emerged and they had entered Rimjora's realm unseen and unsensed by all. Disguised as spirits of nature, they had fooled all the races, even the ulvur. Dark thoughts and feelings existed in the little darkness that was in every sentient creature, but the ulvur had always been able to hold these emotions at bay. It was a struggle each and everyone of them had to fight throughout their lives, but with peace in the world those struggles had always been almost completely non-existing. Until now. It was the dark spirits that had fed upon such emotions, and upon doing so even making them grow. But Rimjora had sensed them as they had poisoned the minds of her children. Only the ulvur were strong enough to resist, and yet there were some of them that could hardly even do that. Rimjora gave the most powerful of the ulvur druids visions of the great void and its dark spirits. She also showed them a great, dark dream, in which the world would at last be consumed by Uhrum, and the trinity would fall; all life would end, and chaos would be eternal. This was the prophecy of the great Orminvakar; the time when the ulvur truly must save the world from the chaos and restore its balance, both by their own hands, but also by uniting the other races once again. Only with the combined force of the spirits of all Rimjora's children could the chaos be driven back and banished to the eternity of Ginnungarja, but their spirits must have found their ways back to their All-Mother to be part of such a great force. Thus the ulvur began their quest to re-unite the races, and to vanquish any threat to Rimjora. It was at this time their All-Mother gave them the gifts of magic and rage. Connected to the lapse of the moon, the ulvur learned to change their shape to their old wolf-self and embrace the powers of Rimjora's spiritual essence, and to a strong, bestial form in which their ferocious rage would bring them strength beyond their wildest dreams.

But it was no easy task they sought to complete.

Chapter IV:
Of The Demon Hunt

The Ulvur Demon Hunt

View picture in full size Picture description. The ulvur setting out on their demon hunt. Image by Isilhir.

As the ulvur returned from their spiritual journey in their northern homelands to the elven, dwarven and human homesteads in the south, people would cry in fear upon their coming, as if they had forgotten their old guardians completely. Sadly, this was not far from the truth. The ulvur had lost track of the time they spent when they were spiritually communicating with Rimjora and learning their new abilities, and a much longer time had passed than they had expected. In the ulvur's absence, the dark spirits had spread over the world in an otherwordly speed, and combined with the easily affected minds of the younger races had left trails of war and chaos behind them. Thus, the untold darkside of their new abilities now took its toll. The ulvur let their rage take them, and all save their instincts could tell who was friend and who was foe. They waged a bloody battle against the dark spirits of Uhrum, which now showed themselves in their true forms: the aggrar; twisted, monstrous and unnatural beasts, and they were not late to return the hostility of Rimjora's guardians.

With the one goal in their minds - to rid the world from these demons -, the ulvur raged across the lands in a brutish crusade; hunting down, slaying and banishing not only the demons themselves, but also every single little creature that showed the faintest sign of being possessed by a dark spirit. This bloody crusade came later to be called Aggrarblot; the Demon Hunt. The other races could not tell aggrar from ulvur, ferocious as their former guardians were in their new-found battle forms. And so, even the oldest and wisest of the alver; still having vague memories of their friendship with the ulvur, deemed them to be as much demons from the void as the true, dark spirits. Their bond to nature became weak and their judgement clouded. The ulvur sensed this, and when they had driven back most of the aggrar if not to Uhrum, then at least to barren and remote places of the world, they desperately tried to remind the other races of their once so strong friendships. But none would listen. Some, mainly of the maner and the vicious, barbaric races of the tursar even responded to the ulvur's pleadings of forgiveness and rememberance with nothing but fire and steel. Others would just turn away without any words.

And so the ulvur, with their tails between their legs, returned to their home to once again watch over Rimjora's children from afar, as best as possible. And soon, they would pass out of all knowledge to the other races, and remained only in their history books as legends and myths. Sad as they were, the ulvur despaired over this, but they swore to still keep their oath to their All-Mother. But soon, the despair would fade because of another feeling, still new to the ulvur; seductive and easily triggered, yet not so easily controlled: rage. The alver and dvargar were deemed just lost, but when the maner and the tursar spread over the world; forgetting more and more of the lores of Rimjora and thus ruthlessly harvesting resources and hunting beasts in ridicolous amounts, the anger and eventually hate towards their new, heretic ways grew within the heart of every ulvur. They would never stoop so low that they would consciously hunt and slay maner or tursar, but if anyone dared to cross their borders, the ulvur would drive them out by any means necessary, and if the lost souls even tried to hunt or harvest wood or any other resource, the judgement of the ulvur would not be a kind one.


Myth written by Isilhir View Profile