The forests scarring

Everyone and everything can have a scar, visible or not. A wound penetrating the flesh or the outer layer of ones core, deep enough to leave a mark that may never heal. Forever a reminder of the pain inflicted.

As one grows older, scars collect and gather, they tell stories of who one is and how one lived, or how others treated one.. but not only people or animals can bare these. The land does as well, marked by hundreds upon hundreds years of corrosion, earthquakes, thunders and the miracles of mana manifesting.

Sometimes however it is not nature shaping itself.

When walking through the fog haunted forest of Aluness, trying to avoid falling into the depths of a barely visible ravine edge or a hole, one starts to wonder how a land this vast and old turned out so shattered. Broken almost.

Thousands of ravines, penetrating the earth, the few mountain ranges, ragged and bright like broken ribs sticking out of green flesh, the fog a veil trying to hide the disfigurement and poisoning everyone who dwells too deep into it's mysteries.

The War

There are tales and documents from a time just three eras ago when the forest was hole, blossoming and growing healthy. When elves were at their peak, weaving magic like none other. Their skill and understanding of the flow of mana was unrivalled, the world was theirs to shape.

One tribe among them was especially keen with the weave. The Pleione created one miracle after the next, growing in influence over the other tribes. While most of the tribes worked together making sure not to overpower the rest, this tribe did not oblige to such useless and shackling conventions. To them further exploring magic and the worlds secrets was much more important. In their quest for perfection they lost sight of the other tribes, who were banding together in an attempt to put them in their place.

Tensions rose slowly but steadily, spreading like an infection.

What exactly caused the escalation is not known but what followed is. An all out war between the one clan against the others. It was during this time that elves truly achieved their greatest breakthroughs in magic, creating spells and objects more deadly than the last.

The war ended abruptly and brutally. The banded elven clans placing countless of mana filled objects in a particular cave and tunnel dense area and overcharged them all. What followed was a chain reaction of unseen magnitude. The land rumbled and shattered, massive cracks formed and rocks fell into the quickly appearing depths. The ravines, the scars, spread like glass shattering, enveloping the entirety of the forest. It is said that even the great spirit residing within the blue lake was hurt and overwhelmed by the sudden influx of Nix.

The Pleione, who valued the forest like a child, did not anticipate such an attack and were mostly wiped out in the aftereffects, the rest forced to flee into the treacherous ocean.

The Aftermath

The Pleione did not go instinct, through their weaving they managed to survive the unpredictable ocean and found a new home in and around underwater islands, seeking revenge on those who exiled them but more importantly destroyed the elven races birthplace. Over generations they poured everything of their excessive magic into a single weave, using the rivers running through the forest to plant the poison. Initially it was unnoticeable, but the Pleiones weave continued to grow, fester.

At first it affected the other elves health, they died much sooner than their long lived species would, then their magic faded as the flow changed around them, affected by the weaves influence. Then the remaining mana turned against them, attacking their magic storing cells, poisoning them and drastically cutting down their lifetime.

Vloresk was borne.

Aluness was reshaped.

Many animal species went extinct because of the drastic events and changes.

Many new species mutated or evolved as a result.