The Moonwood Vale
In the ancient past, when fey creatures inhabited the unexplored corners of North Hasdall, the pale wood in the north was home to those who revered the moon goddess Azrael - Goddess of the Moon. She watched over them as they danced and celebrated under the stars; she was quite pleased to have such lively, happy followers. She came to think of them as her children, but like most children, they eventually began to leave the nest. They moved away from the long nights in the north, and explored other woodlands further south, ever satiating their sense of wanderlust. But they still revered the moon goddess, and bore praises to her wherever they traveled. They are thought to be responsible for the scattered shrines to Azrael - Goddess of the Moon found in remote places across the north.
But Azrael - Goddess of the Moon was lonely. Her children spent less time under the stars, and they lived in smaller, scattered communities instead of their home. Eventually their way of life intersected with that of man, and the fey children quickly learned that they needed to hide and protect their identity from the greed of man. They became sought after prey for the men who wished to profit from their supernatural abilities, and wished to monetize their existence. Despite their innocence and their simple desire to coexist with the other creatures of the world, the fey were viewed as nothing more than sport by greedy men, who simply looked to profit from the killing or capture of a magical creature.
Over the centuries, many of Azrael - Goddess of the Moon's immortal children were slain, captured and enslaved, and tortured by curious men who wished to understand their essence. The goddess was greatly saddened, and the nights grew darker; the world became an altogether more dangerous place to live. Frightened, and disillusioned with the world, the fey wild returned to the protection of the northern vale. Under the watchful eye of their goddess they had a period of peace, but still Azrael was deeply saddened. Seeing that her few remaining children could not go on as they were, she gave them the ability to bear children of their own. These new offspring, being born of this world instead of the goddess herself, lacked the immortal vitality of their parents, but still far surpassed even the elves as some of the longest living creatures in existence. But the lords of the hells stoked the ambitions of evil men, who still continued their search for this last stronghold of the fey, and the false promises of untold riches or elixirs of life. When they found it in the vale, they attacked with fire and steel, and unrelenting bloodshed, dragging Azrael's beloved children out of their peaceful homes and killing any who resisted.
Azrael - Goddess of the Moon was furious and distraught, her precious children were being slain and enslaved in front of her, but she could not leave her place among the stars. She wept at the plight of her children, until the aching in her soul could no longer bear it. Her tears all but dried up, her anguish immeasurable, she shed a single drop of moonlight from the sky that silently splashed down in the center of the once peaceful village of Beàtharn. It caused a ripple of magic to spread to the edges of the vale that cast a silence over the lands. Time had stopped in the village, the nights were silent, and living beings were frozen in a generations-long divine stasis. Azrael - Goddess of the Moon had ended their suffering, but hers was a great scar upon her soul.
The old village of Beàtharn, now colloquially known as the Lost Temple of Azrael - Goddess of the Moon , has gone undiscovered for thousands of years. The time in this place stopped thousands of years before the Dwarves started their new calendar, predating even the Jade Elves, when mankind was still in its most primitive age. Over many centuries, time slowly began to catch up to the pale wood, the warmth of life creeping back into the heart of the forest. Several generations passed, and eventually Azrael - Goddess of the Moon's children began to awaken from their slumber. The first to wake were terrified, they woke to a world where even the flames that had chased them from their homes were preserved as they were a thousand years prior. These first few to rise from the slumbers of time are not the same as their forbearers, but living relics of a cherished and painful time before recorded history.
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