Veren Varjot – The Shadows of Blood

Introduction

   

Origins

  The Veren Varjot were born from betrayal.   When the War of the Three Kings raged across the lands, and the dark races poured through forest and field, the Evolu endured the unendurable. Families butchered, forests burned, oaths broken. Their noble halls fell one by one, until their proud race fled across the sea to Humär, seeking refuge among humans.   The final straw was not the slaughter itself, but the silence that followed. Where the people cried for justice, the Omethiä, the “Father” of the Evolu race, preached peace: “We must endure, we must outlast, as the forest does. Patience, not vengeance, will heal.”   But not all could bend their necks to such counsel. Among the revered Rook—the elite rangers of the Evolu—rose voices unwilling to submit to lifetimes of rebuilding while the guilty roamed free.   It was Amälän of the Woodland Folk, famed bowman and Rook captain, who first gave the thought flesh. He declared: “Better that I surrender rank, kin, and homeland, than surrender my children’s children to another slaughter. If peace means waiting for the axe, then I choose exile, and war.”  

Philosophy of the Veren Varjot

The Heresy of Inaction

  To the Veren Varjot, the greatest crime is not cruelty—it is apathy. Evil, they say, will always rise. It festers, it spreads, it corrupts. To ignore it, to delay action, is to feed it with time and opportunity. They tell their young:  

“Every day you do nothing, the shadow grows teeth.”

  Where the High Council of Evolu sees endurance and patience as strength, the Veren Varjot see cowardice. Inaction is not peace—it is betrayal of the innocent yet to fall.  

Life as War

  The Veren Varjot view existence itself as a battlefield. To live is to fight; to eat, to breathe, to walk beneath the trees—all of it is owed to those who struck down evil so that light might survive another dawn.   A Veren Varjot hunter rises each day with one thought: “What shadow shall I remove from the world before I sleep?” Their purpose is not glory, but vigilance.  

Mercy to Darkness, Cruelty to Light

  Mercy is not a virtue when shown to those who devour. A Vallen spared today is a village burned tomorrow. A Therrin let slip will one day sharpen its blade on children’s bones.   Thus the Veren Varjot hold fast to this harsh truth: showing compassion to darkness is cruelty inflicted upon the innocent. They teach that justice without retribution is only neglect dressed in noble words.  

The Living Motto

 

“A root left rots the forest.”

  This phrase is more than a motto—it is the bedrock of their law. They use it to justify every strike, every blade drawn in silence. Just as one rotted root may spread sickness through a tree until the whole grove falls, so too does unchecked evil poison entire nations.   Every child of the Veren Varjot is made to carve these words once with their own hand into stone, wood, or bone. The carving is a vow. Some Evolu tell me the scars on their palms, from stone chisel slipping against skin, are the first blood they offer to the cause.  

The Balance of Light

  It is important to note: the Veren Varjot do not delight in war. Their path is heavy, their burden bitter. They do not sing victory songs or celebrate slaughter. Instead, they grieve, even as they strike. Their philosophy demands sacrifice of spirit—that one must grow hard enough to wield the blade, yet soft enough to remember why it was necessary.   Their hunters say, “We walk the darker path, so our children may walk in the light.”   So he called brothers and sisters to him, and the Shadows of Blood were born.  

Way of Life of the Veren Varjot

 

Silent Hearths

  Fire is life to most wanderers, but to the Veren Varjot it is a grave marker. Smoke draws eyes, and eyes draw blades. So they have perfected the Silent Hearth.   They dig hollow chambers beneath the earth, carefully lined with clay and stone, the entrance hidden beneath brush or roots. Fires burn within, their smoke fed through long channels woven into the root-systems of nearby trees. By the time the smoke reaches the surface, it emerges as nothing more than the breath of the forest.   Meals cooked in such hearths carry the taste of soil and sap. When I remarked upon it, a hunter said only, “Better to taste earth than ashes of home.”            

Training of the Veren Varjot

                 

The Result

  To outsiders, the Veren Varjot seem cold, grim shadows who care only for the hunt. But in truth, they are forged weapons, each scar a mark of the lesson that life itself is war.   As one Evolu confided to me, eyes hollow: “To be Veren Varjot is to stop being prey yourself. Or die learning.”   And most—most die learning.