Selvans

Untold years ago, the boundaries of the elemental realms were not as they are now. In the never-ending struggle for dominance the powers of the Eleven have washed back and forth across the lands like waves upon the shore. For the most part, when an element's borders are pushed back, they are expelled from that region entirely. But occasionally, a few small pockets of their influence remain in the newly-dominated land. In places such as this, the land itself seems to remember its long-lost liege, and holds loyally on even as the world changes around it to suit the needs of the conquering deity.

There is one such region not far from the southern precipice of Greatwyrm's Breach. In shady dells and atop hills sheltered by a steep arête ridge there lingers a thick, deep forest of gnarled trees with boughs laden by centuries of undisturbed growth. It the remnant of an ancient incursion by one of the mightiest forces the Gladekeeper ever raised for war, and it is not the only remainder.

To outsiders' eyes, the forest is untamed and wild, some might even say savage, if such a word can be applied to trees. But to a Nature dragon it is clear that this forest has been lovingly tended to by a jealous custodian. This sentinel's constant watch and swift retribution upon interlopers has permitted the forest to grow as it will for an age, an admirable feat for one so deeply embedded in what is essentially enemy territory. Anyone, dragon or beast, who steps past the hardy oak trees that stand like scattered sentries at the outskirts of the wood and into its deep vales will quickly feel the near-tangible pressure of unseen, vigilant eyes upon them. An offense as minor as breaking off branches to build a fire will rile up an omnipresent wrath in the very forest itself down to its heartwood, and of those who do true harm, nothing good has ever been said afterwards.

The watchers of the wild woods are sprites and nymphs and Nature spirits of every variety; small, secretive things much diminished in power since they were cut off from the Gladekeeper's domain long ago, but no less loyal or protective. Their leader, who lays down the law of that small land and decides what form their swift retribution will take, is a mighty Imperial, a steadfast soldier in the service of growing things. He is one of the rare members of his kind who are blessed by chance with a vast hoard of years beyond that allotted to almost any other species. Selvans was his original name, though he is so solitary it does not mean much to him anymore. He has been bestowed many other titles in his rocky neighbors' lore and myths since his arrival with the Gladekeeper's hoards of devotees and elite exalted warriors. Among his myriad epithets are Rowanroot and Beechbone, Quickbeam and Goodfellow (a title devised with the wish of avoiding his wrath, not due to kindliness on his part), Grovelord and Druid-King.

The northernmost edge of the forest marks the southern boundary of the territory claimed by the Diabase Demesne. Painstaking diplomacy and a constant, healthy respect for the forest has resulted in Selvans permitting the Diabase dragons to take fallen wood they find at the border for their own use, and to stray a little into the forest itself to gather herbs for medicine or forage for food. While fiercely protective, Selvans and his subordinates have not entirely set themselves against the Earth dragons, and allow them to use the forest's resources as a Nature clan would, to a certain extent. At the thin outskirts where the borders are murky, dragons might be able to trust in Pele to try to protect them if something goes wrong, but if they stray too deep, or their actions go too far, then all they can look for is the forest's judgement.