Birdfolk Amaranthine Stories & Lore

Ardea & Tyton

With the birth of Ardea and Tyton, the world was set into motion. Where once there was nothing but barrens, the land came alive with the coming of the Amaranthine, and the world began its endless cycle of life and death. Their arrival split the formless sky into day and night. They created the sun and the moon, and the succession of light and dark that emerged from their movement across the heavens told all life when to act and when to rest. Ardea and Tyton were born from opposite parts of the Great Rhythm. Each knows of the other’s existence, but they keep to their separate spheres, meeting only in the early hours of dawn and the late hours of dusk to exchange dominion over the sky. In seasons of warmth, Ardea has a greater reign over the sky, while in seasons of bitter cold, Tyton’s power increases.

The Amaranthine, Ardea and Tyton, played a pivotal role in the creation of life in Humblewood. Ardea's touch brought forth sun-loving flowers, plants, and animals, filling the days with vibrant life. Tyton, on the other hand, blessed the night with creatures that thrive in darkness. These two celestial beings also birthed sentient races, with the birdfolk being the first of their children, followed closely by the humblefolk.

Originally, all birdfolk were the same. It was difficult to distinguish them from the birds of the forest, as they even possessed the ability to fly. One day, the entire flock of birdfolk decided on a grand contest of gift-giving to prove which of them was the most worthy to lead. Ardea agreed to act as judge; whoever could present her with the greatest gift would become leaders among her children. For an entire season, birdfolk searched and scrounged, gathered, and hunted, returning with trinkets, baubles, and gifts great and small. Though Ardea commended all her children for their gifts, only five were truly deserving of her boon.

Gesme, Reya, Hanera, Altus, and Clhuran became leaders of the birdfolk. They inspired tales and devotion and gave the birdfolk races their distinct forms and skills.

These great ones went on to become part of the Great Rhythm as keepers of nature’s balance and protectors of birdfolk across Everden, eventually ascending and joining the Amaranthine. The followers of each of the five were granted new forms and great gifts to match their leader’s exploits. Yet, to accept these gifts, something needed to be lost. This is why the birdfolk of today can only glide: their gift of flight was taken as the price for becoming something new.

The Tale of Gesme, the Brilliant

The first to present Ardea with a worthy gift was Gesme, a clever birdfolk who saw potential in the world that her kin could scarcely imagine. She had observed the great orb of fire that Ardea had placed high in the sky, and how Ardea had positioned it a great distance from the land and its creatures, so it would warm them gently without burning them. But Gesme also saw that the sun vanished with the coming of night, when the creatures of the dark began to prowl, and thought: “How remarkable would it be to have some of that fire in the world?”

Other birdfolk laughed at Gesme as she spent days plotting and reading the sky. She examined every tree, from the great ash to the supple willow. Each day she carried a new branch in her beak, dropping many in frustration. The birdfolk were puzzled but dismissed her actions. Then, one day at dawn, when the sun was at its lowest point in the sky, Gesme appeared with an oak branch in her beak. Without a word, she took off straight into the horizon. She flew for what seemed like ages, but the oak branch was light and did not trouble her. As she neared the sun, her feathers, talons, and beak began to blacken in the heat. Still, she persisted. The oak was hardy and spry and did not wither. Finally, she stuck the tip of the branch into the sun, igniting it. Hastily she flew back toward the ground, with the branch burning bright in her talons. The oak was patient and did not burn up, keeping the flame steady as Gesme returned from the sky.

“See what I have brought here!” she bragged as the astounded birdfolk looked upon her scorched feathers. “This will keep us warm on the cold days of winter and safe through the long nights!”

Ardea was initially concerned at the presence of fire in the world, for she knew the forests could burn and that misuse of fire would harm Everden. But when she saw the birdfolk gather around the fires and felt the gentle warmth a small flame could provide to her children, she was overcome with happiness.

“This,” she declared, “is worthy of a boon.”

And thus, Gesme was changed. Set ablaze with the flames of knowledge and creativity, she became an Amaranthine. Her followers' forms changed, too, and they became the first corvums. They were gifted with a bit of her cleverness and foresight, but Ardea gave them all black talons, feathers, and beaks as a reminder of the price Gesme paid to bring fire into the world.

The Tale of Reya, the Explorer

The second to present a worthy gift was Reya, whose hunting skills were second to none. Though she was small, she was nimble, swift, and wise in the ways of the forest. Reya was capable and reliable, but birdfolk deemed her too independent to be a leader. On her hunts, she would travel the length and breadth of the land, sometimes not returning for weeks at a time.

During one of her journeys, Reya encountered a stranger. The traveler’s true form was hidden under a cloak, but they could fly and clearly felt as comfortable in the trees as any birdfolk. They had heard of Reya’s skill in racing, hunting, and navigating the forest and proposed three challenges, to which Reya agreed.

For the first event, the pair moved to a patch of open sky overlooking rugged plains. There was a rocky outcropping in the distance; whoever flew there first would be the winner. The race began, and Reya immediately fell behind, the cloaked figure moving faster than Reya had ever seen.

Reya summoned all her strength to keep up, beating her wings like never before. Yet the traveler kept inching forward, and she was unable to close the gap in time.

Reya steeled herself for the next challenge. They flew to the meadows, where small creatures grazed, and it was decided that the first to catch five hares would be the winner. Reya moved with purpose, confident no one could beat her skills with a bow, a tool of her own creation. Each of her shots found its mark until she had but a single hare left to catch. But when Reya looked over at the traveler, she was shocked to see them waiting impatiently with a full complement.

For the third and final event, the pair flew to the center of the forest. The first to emerge into the open fields beyond would be the victor. These were forests Reya knew well, and she was certain she would win. As soon as they had started, though, Reya saw the traveler alight, darting through the trees as if weightless. Reya kept pace, using every trick she could to give herself an advantage. Still, the traveler pulled ahead, if only by inches, and emerged victorious.

Reya landed on a nearby branch and cursed her lack of skill. After a moment of pause, however, she regained her composure and thanked her competitor. Yet the traveler laughed, a sound so familiar, Reya wondered why she hadn’t noticed before.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of, birdfolk. I see your skills are real. You are the first to so nearly beat me in every event, and this is no easy feat.” The traveler removed their cloak, and Reya could not believe her eyes. She had been challenged by the wind itself.

It swirled, spinning a cloak out of the very clouds that it placed around Reya. “Consider this a gift for providing me with such sport.” Reya thanked the wind, and with that, it departed, caressing Reya’s feathers in a familiar breeze.

When the time came to present a gift, Reya offered Ardea her cloak of clouds, along with the story of her adventure. As Reya wove her tale, the other birdfolk were captivated, their eyes lighting up with excitement. When Reya had finished, Ardea returned Reya’s cloak to her, saying the story of her adventure was the rarer gift. Reya was changed and became the Amaranthine of wind, archery, and exploration. Those she inspired became the first raptors. They began to take on a nomadic lifestyle, finding their fortune day by day as Reya once did, and told tales of their own adventures by the light of the campfire.

The Tale of Hanera, the Provider

The third to present a precious gift was Hanera, a gentle birdfolk and the first to shift her focus away from the sky. Rather than live in the trees with other birdfolk, Hanera made a home for herself below the canopy. She cared for the soil and the earth, and in return, the earth gifted her with wisdom. From the earth, Hanera learned to speak with plants—knowledge she used to better care for them. She soon earned fame among the birdfolk as one who grew the largest and best-tasting crops.

“These crops,” Hanera thought, “are the finest gift I could offer to our Mother.” And so she set about planting a large garden, its bounty reserved for Ardea.

One day, while tending to her garden, Hanera saw a family of haggard travelers making their way out of the woods. When they saw Hanera, the mother begged her for aid.

“Please, kind sister, we are in great need. We were traveling through the forest when a creature attacked me and wounded my wing. We escaped, but I cannot fly. Please, help us; we are terribly hungry.”

Hanera knew that she couldn’t feed herself and this family while storing crops for Ardea. Even still, she could not turn them away in their desperate state. She offered to share her home and her food for as long as the travelers needed, making sure their needs were met before saving any food for Ardea.

The travelers stayed with Hanera for many nights while the mother healed. Each day, Hanera would prepare the family meals, telling the plants of their plight. The plants understood and were honored to nourish the weary and wounded birdfolk. In return, Hanera ensured their seeds were saved and planted again, so their lives would continue indefinitely.

At night, Hanera applied medicine to the mother’s wound made from the leaves of kindly herbs. By the end of the season, the mother had healed, the family was in good health, and they gratefully flew away.

When the day finally came for birdfolk to present their gifts, all Hanera could offer Ardea was a few fruits and vegetables. She wove them together along with flowers she had grown, attempting to make her offering look more cheerful.

“I’m sorry, Mother Stork,” Hanera said. “I had meant to present you with a great harvest, but this is all I could provide.”

Ardea took the wreath and spoke gladly: “You have given me more than enough, for you see my child. I received your compassion for an entire season.” As Ardea spoke, celestial messengers appeared by her side, and together, they transformed into the birdfolk family Hanera had so tenderly cared for.

For her charity, Hanera received the Amaranthine’s boon: her feathers turned green and grew into vines and shoots adorned with the most beautiful flowers. Other birdfolk stared in awe, and those who followed Hanera became the first gallus, blessed with her inspiring kindness and closeness with the earth and all growing things.

The Tale of Altus, the Enduring

The fourth to present a commendable gift was Altus, whose hunting skills were second only to Reya’s, though Altus journeyed the Wood to test his limits rather than explore as Reya did. Altus felt pure joy when overcoming obstacles. He loved the cold seasons and challenged himself by hunting at night. His nocturnal existence granted Altus a perspective other birdfolk lacked.

“What if I gifted Ardea something she has never seen before?” he thought. “Yes! I shall hunt the moon and present it to her so that she may see its lovely glow.” This would be unthinkable to any other birdfolk, but Altus was resolute, confident his gift would please Ardea.

However, he was neither as skilled or nimble as Reya nor as clever or cunning as Gesme. His arrows would not scratch the moon, and despite his great strength, he could not move it. But Altus was stubborn. For many nights, he tried and failed to bring down his quarry. The more he tried, the more frustrated he became. Altus even thought he could hear the moon’s laughter reflected in the babbling brooks and rippling ponds, mocking his futile efforts. Still, Altus remained determined.

Tyton, intrigued, observed Altus as he struggled. “Why do you persist in this task, my child?” the Amaranthine of the night asked. “You must know you will not succeed.”

Altus replied, “If I did not try, then I would never know for certain if I could. But you may be right. For all my strength, I can never beat the moon, and only a fool refuses to acknowledge when he has been bested.” Altus paused, letting out a sigh. “Pity, it would have made a lovely gift for Ardea.”

Tyton was touched, not just by the sentiment but by the incredible will of this birdfolk.

“Your resolve does you credit,” Tyton said. “To capture the moon, you will require this.” He said, producing a lidded chalice intricately carved from the wood of an alder tree. Tyton gave it to Altus, and then the Amaranthine of the night disappeared.

Altus was puzzled until the moon appeared from behind a cloud. He heard its laughter in the pond behind him. When he turned, he saw it: the moon’s reflection set perfectly in the still, clear waters. Without delay, Altus filled the chalice with water. With the moon clearly reflected within the chalice, he quickly shut the lid. The moon was caught.

As dawn began to break over the horizon, Tyton appeared once again before Altus, “Let my sister gaze upon my creation, but return it by day’s end. The night has need of it,” old Father Owl said before departing for the lands beyond life.

And so it was that Altus presented Ardea with the moon. He became the first strig, and his people were gifted with his great strength and indomitable will. He kept his oath to Tyton, returning the moon that very evening. For this, Tyton gifted all strigs with the ability to see clearly under its light. Tyton welcomed Altus as a guest in his home, deep within the lands of death. Altus found the cold there bracing and decided to share it with the people of Everden. This is why the weather is so inclement in winter; Altus returns each year, carrying storms of sleet and snow in his chalice, to test the birdfolk’s endurance.

The Tale of Clhuran, the Fickle

The last to present a worthy gift was Clhuran, who seemed an odd choice for a leader. Clhuran had no desire to lead. He was whimsical and impulsive. He had wild moods and was never able to focus on one task for too long. He also had incredible luck. Most saw him as little more than a bumbler, someone who floated their way through life. In truth, Clhuran was full of mirth and cunning. “Where I am,” he oft remarked, “is simply where I am meant to be. I follow the flow of the universe.”

For all his mirth, Clhuran was notoriously fickle; he was a trickster, who delighted in humbling birdfolk who boasted about their cleverness. This earned him many admirers and just as many enemies. Clhuran never intended to compete in the gift-giving contest.

“What should I care what others think of me,” he harrumphed, “So long as I am happy?” Some birdfolk, bitter at having been fooled by him, claimed Clhuran could never hope to win such a contest. Clhuran tried to pay them no heed; in his heart, he felt the barbs hit their mark. “Who am I kidding?” Clhuran sighed. I am not strong, smart, skilled, or leaderly. I couldn’t possibly produce a gift worthy of Ardea.” With this last thought, he sank into a bitter melancholy.

It was only when a young boy approached him that he regained his confidence. “Please, Clhuran, won’t you show us what you can do?” the small birdfolk said. “Many of us love your tricks and your jokes. You bring joy to all birdfolk! Surely, if you try, you can do it!”

Clhuran saw the sincerity in the boy’s eyes, and suddenly, he knew what to do. “Fine, fine,” he exclaimed in mock annoyance. I suppose I shall entertain you.”

With newfound confidence, he approached Ardea. All of the birdfolk were gathered, and when Clhuran looked upon the crowd, he saw both enemies and friends. Thoughts of those friendships allowed Clhuran to reach deep within himself, and from the depths of his soul, he felt a beat like the Great Rhythm itself. Channeling this energy, Clhuran opened his beak and brought forth a most beautiful gift: a song. It was a song so perfect, so harmonious, that no birdfolk could deny its charm. Ardea beamed.“My child, you have within you a rare gift. May all of your kin be blessed by it.” With those words, Clhuran became the first luma, the Amaranthine of all fortune, good or ill. His peculiar connection to fate is shared by all his kin.

Ever since Clhuran’s performance, all birds have been singing, hoping to imitate the perfect song he sang to Ardea. While some sing pleasantly, Clhuran made it so those who mocked him could only trill, shriek, or caw artlessly. This is why it is always important to show respect for others, no matter how odd they may seem.