Eldraithar: The Oldest Tree
The Oldest Tree stands in the northern clearing of Banewood, where ancient oaks and towering elms form a natural cathedral. This colossal being is more than just a tree known as Eldraithar to the Yv’anda and The Great Spirit to the Kutauri. It is a sentinel of history, a monument to Chaos and Order, and a repository of the world’s most profound mysteries. Its true name, however, is known only to the primordial forces that shaped the world.
A Sanctuary Guarded by Wrath
To approach Eldraithar is to tread on sacred ground. Only those deemed worthy by the Yv’anda are granted the privilege of entering the clearing. Intruders find themselves facing not just the swift wrath of the Dryads, but also the unyielding fury of the centaurs who guard the tree with their lives. This is no place for the faint-hearted or uninvited.
Runes of Chaos and Order
At the very core of Eldraithar’s massive trunk, the marks of Chaos’s hand can be found—runes and symbols etched in collaboration with Order, their meanings shrouded in secrecy. These carvings have withstood the test of time, remaining untranslated and enigmatic. The Yv’anda believe these runes hold the truth of existence itself, a guide to godhood hidden in plain sight. Yet, they also fear this knowledge falling into the wrong hands.
The Shadow of Anara
Foremost among their fears is Queen Anara, whose hunger for power is no secret. The Yv’anda whisper of her desire to claim the knowledge of Eldraithar for herself, to unlock its secrets and wield them as a weapon. The tree stands not just as a beacon of hope and mystery, but as a battleground for the soul of Banewood.
A Living Myth
Eldraithar is more than a tree; it is the heart of Banewood, a living myth that binds its inhabitants together. Its roots delve deep into the earth, while its branches stretch toward the heavens, bridging the mortal and the divine. For those who walk its shadowed clearing, Eldraithar reminds us that some truths are too vast and sacred to be unravelled by mortal hands.
Eldraithar—what a name, what a presence! To stand beneath its towering branches is to feel the weight of ages pressing down upon your soul. The runes whisper secrets I dare not repeat, and the air itself feels alive, charged with a purpose beyond mortal reckoning. I cannot help but wonder: if the truth of all existence lies etched upon that bark, then perhaps ignorance is a blessing too precious to squander
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