Ratatosk
The Ratatosk are enigmatic, celestial creatures that dwell within the boundless boughs and spiraling roots of Sylthauren, the World Tree of Aigusyl. Bearing resemblance to squirrels with elongated tails of radiant light and fur threaded with flecks of shimmering stardust, they are far more than mere messengers—they are the World Tree’s nerves, a living communication network that runs along the sacred paths of the cosmos.
Each Ratatosk is born of bark, starstuff, and echoes—sprouting into existence from knotwood hollows when Sylthauren deems communication necessary. Despite their small stature, they radiate divine energy and move with impossible speed through the planes, climbing strands of metaphysical energy as if they were branches. They speak in riddles, chirps, and trills that only the most attuned spiritfarers, druids, and celestial scholars can understand. Their message is rarely direct—a vision, a riddle, a whisper across leaves.
Ratatosk are playful but dutiful, embodying both the curiosity of lesser woodland spirits and the solemnity of the divine. Some travel the great world-bridging roots to deliver secrets between the higher planes. Others dart through the dreams of sleeping gods or deliver metaphysical warnings to mortals chosen by the tree. They are known to stir strange dreams or leave acorns carved with otherworldly sigils, which bloom into omens or prophetic visions.
Each Ratatosk remembers everything it has ever heard or seen across its travels, and yet never reveals more than it is meant to. Their knowledge of planar balance, lost gods, and primordial truths is unmatched, yet they keep it wrapped in whimsy. It is said that to truly understand a Ratatosk’s message is to glimpse the Weave's design—and perhaps, your place in it.
Though they do not form a hierarchy, certain elder Ratatosk have grown into grander, glider-like forms, their tails trailing constellations and their eyes shimmering like moonpools. These are sometimes mistaken for minor spirits or even tiny archons, and are given reverence by sylvan beings, celestial archivists, and spiritfarers alike.
Above all, the Ratatosk are loyal to Virelyndra, the Warden of the Rootbound Crown, serving her will as instinctively as branches follow the sun. No realm is too far, no secret too deep, and no message too perilous for a Ratatosk. And should you meet one mid-scamper or find its glyph-marked nut upon your pillow, know this:
The Tree remembers, and the stars have begun to stir.