Lachtna

As with most Elafi, Lachtna was born and raised in the Chain of Fire. He resided on Kalni, an enormous jungle isolated from any human settlement. He, along with the Elves, lived together in relative harmony on the isles for some time. Young Lachtna spent most of his early years acting as a druid in training essentially, with the boy showing a very keen interest in learning elemental magics.

Always the type to be rambunctious and rough around the edges, Lachtna was known for being a hot tempered. Many teased the boy for his anger issues and lack of proper temperment, some even going so far to claim that the spirits would have no patience in dealing with his emotions, much to his duress! Still, Lachtna persevered, if only to stubbornly prove his people wrong. He eagerly awaited the day he turned ten, when the Norns would be left to judge where he’d be left to go.

Lachtna had always had a fondness of fire. Not because of his keen interest in the elemental magic, but because his family performed the annual festival that brought forth the Norns to bring guidance to the children seeking to become druids.

Within the deep parts of the Chain of Fire, there was a renown celebration the Elafi and Elven people celebrated together. One that dedicated itself to honouring their Fae heritage, and paying respects to the three Norn sisters that watch over their people. The Scolaighe -- Lachtna’s family, was dedicated to honouring this tradition through an instrumental play that blended together both magic and music. It celebrated the coming of age for Elafi and Elven children. 10 in the case of Elafi, and 16 in the case of the Elven peoples.

When Lachtna was brought to the festival at 10, his life would begin its first change. And for many, they considered it to be one for the greater! Young Lachtna was to meet with the Norns after the festival, where he would ask for their aid at their altar. When Lachtna made his small trip to the altar, the three great Norns appeared before him…

What the three sisters said stunned Lachtna. Their words left him speechless, but after some long thinking, he not only knew that they were right, but also knew that, as the ladies of fate, it was already ordained. His tempermental nature would lead to him being consumed by the elements. The Norns offered him safety, however. In order to keep his temper in check, to simmer his anger, Lachtna was to become...a doctor. A healer, to soothe others.

Such a position was a lot of burden on the Elafi’s shoulders, but he’d accept it all the same, not daring to question the Norns. And perhaps, if he learns to help others heal, he would grow into becoming the powerful druid he dreamed of!

Healer Lachtna

Lachtna’s life as a Healer was just about as laid back and lovely as one would expect. Though he was known for being tempermental, his fellow people had happily accepted him as a healer. He began his training and initiation into a Druid post-haste, and soon enough, he was helping his people recover.

Though angry, Lachtna soon grew to become very beloved by his people due to the passion he placed into helping his kind recover. Lachtna grew angry with a few of his patients, but never in a way that would jeopardize their health. If anything, he only showed great frustration that was almost heartfelt and beloved to his people as they suffered. ‘Healers never want to see the same face twice’, Lachtna would say.

Jokingly, he’d berate people on their injuries, but always did his best to help them recover. This lead to him quickly being loved by the Elafi and Elven people, and soon enough, he grew to become rather well known within his community for being a bit of a prodigy.

Lachtna healed Elf and Elafi alike, revitilizing their energy and fixing up whatever wound they’d sustain. Lachtna’s knack for healing others soon grew to be beloved by the Elafi people! This period of peace and healing lead Lachtna’s personality to indeed wisen and mellow out, just as the Norns had suspected, Lachtna grew wisdom. Yet, at the back of his mind, the curiosity of evoking the elements still stirred…

However, as time went on, Lachtna soon found an illness beginning to brew that caused a great change in his people. He’s seen plenty of different diseases and pestilences sweep over his people before. Bloodfire Fever, The Plague, Slimegut...all horrible diseases, with terrible, visceral consequences.

They were nothing that Lachtna couldn’t cure. But one day, a new type of disease began spreading among his people. One that Lachtna would find it impossible to cure even through the magic he grew with -- Wendigo Sickness, they called it.

Lachtna wasn’t quite sure how the disease first spread, but curing the disease was difficult. By far, the hardest one to maintain. Even if Lachtna managed to ‘cure’ his patients, they’d only wind up mysteriously showing signs of it later, with the symptoms from the curse only continuing as time went on. Their mouths frothed, their bodies tensed, and fur began falling in patches, leaving them pale and weak.

Their veins blackened with putrid blood that only seemed to spread the curse further -- merely having the curse nearby was a risk alone to Lachtna. Their suffering continued, with the Elafi and Elven people suffering violent spasms of pain, their minds slowly descending into primal savagery.

Lachtna watched as his people succumb to the next stage of the curse. The stage at which they began truly becoming what his people called ‘Wendigos’. When the sickness overcame their ability to reason, they became ravenous creatures that slaughtered anyone unfortunate enough to cross their path. These unfortunate men and women were put out from their misery -- but usually only after they caused damage to others.

When a close friend of his had finally succumbed to the curse, Lachtna had finally begun to question the Norn’s and their threads of fate, and just what kind of outcome they now foresaw for his people.

Lachtna had asked the Norns what they had in mind for them, and they’d simply reply that this horrible fate was brought upon them through a wretched disease carried by human explorers. This revelation angered Lachtna, but the Norns eased him -- claiming that as a druid, his duty was to heal and protect everyone, including the humans, as vile as they may be. The humans, after all, were also suffering from the curse. They had not willingly brought it to these woods.

The Norns simply told him to continue his duty. To heal and protect. And so, he’d try that. It was his destiny to protect and mend the wounds of others; in time, the Fates would help their people prosper. He need only put his faith in Fate itself.

This continued to carry the young Elafi’s hopes...until another voice echoed into the back of his mind. The voice urged him to continue carrying on his original desires. To use the power of the elements, and cleanse the curse that beset his people with fire. The whispers spoke of Fate belonging to no one but their own hands -- and if Lachtna weren’t to sieze it, his kind would surely perish.

When Lachtna returned to see his dear friend suffering from the disease, he knew he was almost too late. His friend’s eyes bulged and oozed black ichor, while his mouth frothed with foam. The pale patches of skin from his greying fur were blackening with visible veins that pulsated with the vile blood. Lachtna plead to him to restrain himself, to keep the pain back. To let him cure him of the curse so that they may work together against it.

In response, the friend gripped hold of Lachtna’s wrist, squeezing hard, fierce, pulling him to face him. Ichor began to ooze from his throat, but he’d manage to mouth out words that were barely intelligible…

‘Kill me.’

Those two words made Lachtna know and understand what to do with the elements. Begrudgingly, yet without a word, Lachtna grabbed hold of the young Elafi’s face with his other hand and basked it in cleansing fire. He’d mouth apologies through sobs.

“You’re free now.” Lachtna whispered, as the body was soon basked in fire. Not another noise came from him. Lachtna’s hand tightens around the wrist of his friend, only for it to crumble into a white powder.

“And soon, so to will our people.”



The Red Enclave

As more and more of his people succumbed to Wendigo sickness, Lachtna continued to hear the voice urge him on and on. To be truthful, he was never sure whether he was going mad, or hearing primal instinct at the back of his mind. Or perhaps, a higher power attempting to aid him. Whatever the case, Lachtna found that healing them in the traditional fashion would not save them: All traces of the curse must be burnt to ash. The lives of the few unfortunately, would have to outweigh the many.

With a heavy heart, he formed what was called the Scarlet Circle . An order of elemental druids specialized in hunting and combatting those who may carry the Beast Curse, as well as rooting out the horrible diseases that plagued their lands. They performed what they called the ‘Purging’ -- an event leading to the burning and deforestation of their home, until it was left to a smoldering mound of ash.

Eventually, there were few Elafi left, but Lachtna was sure that the remaining carriers of the curse were nothing but ash by now. Lachtna woefully carried out the cremation of countless women, men, and children all in hopes of keeping his people safe from the sickness. When Lachtna was traveling through the woods however, he’d encounter an explorer…

The explorer was unlike anything he’s really seen too often. It reminded him of those frail and skinny Elven folks, but he was taller, and his ears were rounded. It was among the first time here, that he made contact with a human. The explorer was injured and weakened; and so, Lachtna saw to it that he would bring that human to his people’s settlement in hopes of restoring them.

Lachtna and the two members of his circle escorted the injured man back to the safety of his settlement. When they’d arrive at the settlement though, they’d reach the clinic...and his eyes went wide.

“Are you feeling okay?” Lachtna stammered out, his eyes darting throughout the room as he saw the tell-tale symptoms that resembled the curse that plagued his people. Blackened veins crawled and shuddered beneath the skin of man, while the ‘doctor’, claimed that they were okay.

Lachtna’s eyes saw the curse. The voice at his mind urged him more; it sang to him. Their blood festered with the blood of the beast, they carried the Wendigo sickness, just as his people had.

“You’re the healer...What is wrong with them?” Lachtna asked towards the man whom wore a beaked mask.

The Doctor sighed and shook his head. “They are taken by the curse. Fortunately, we’re able to quarantine them.”

“Quarantining them will no longer be necessary.” For the first time, Lachtna’s Fae runes glew upon him once more. Unlike the gentle green glow they normally carried, a wrathful red shined from the markings.

“Because we will heal them.”
 The doctor was confused, but before he could respond, Lachtna and his druids rushed to begin setting the clinic aflame. Lachtna made their screams were short, but he still remembers them echoing through the night as he set everyone aflame. Skin and flesh melted from the bone, white ash powdered the clinic, and soon, Lachtna’s eyes were widened.

“These strangers carried the curse to us. They must be cleansed.”

“I was going to cure them! We could’ve saved their lives -- why? Why!”  The doctor cried.

“Because, doctor. You are all very, very sick.” Lachtna said.

Lachtna’s hand erupted with white hot flame, consuming the man in an inferno that lead to his body dropping to its knees, the head  crashing to the ground as a hollowed, burning skull.

“But we have the cure.”

Crazed screams and panicked shouts echoed through that night, but Lachtna and his circle handled the fire before a gunshot rang through the air. The bullet ripped into the back of his chest, he fell to the ground, sputtering blood before consciousness failed him.

Flames licked the whole area around him...and that same voice echoed through his mind.

“You must live. No flame will harm you…”

Lachtna swore he saw the fiery image of a creature reaching out for him, its skeletal hand reaching to carress his cheek before the visage of a fanged entity faded away.


That was the last Lachtna really remembered, before he was taken away from his people.


“You must live. No flame will harm you…”

Lachtna swore he saw the fiery image of a creature reaching out for him, its skeletal hand reaching to carress his cheek before the visage of a fanged entity faded away.


That was the last Lachtna really remembered, before he was taken away from his people.