#ghyran

Aqshy, Lore of Fire- American Dragon: Jake Long

Azyr, Lore of Heaven- Star VS The Forces of Evil

Chamon, Lore of Metal- Phineas and Ferb

Ghur, Lore of Beast- The Owl House

Ghyran, Lore of Life- Amphibia

Hysh, Lore of Light- Gravity Falls

Shyish, Lore of Death- The Ghost and Molly McGee

Ulgu, Lore of Shadow- Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja

😭☺️ STORMHOST VIRIDARIUM : Based in a jade Sanctuary in Ghyran, the Kingdom of Life, this strange Stormhost is full of secrets, but its knowledge of natural landscapes makes it very precious in the Eophores Crusades..especially in Ghur.

Some leaders in High Azyr believe they are heretics, corrupted by Slaanesh or weird nature spirits. In fact, their occult knowledge makes them very silent, but excellent singers and musicians. They're also experts in vendetta. Will you follow their chants?

Glory to Sigmar, glory to Ghyran!

Whilst 40k continues to provide virtually 0 novels or lore in which anyone who isn’t a Space Marine does anything but fails, AoS was kind enough to give me a nice short story to read.

From the Deep is a short, Sylvaneth-focused, story set during the quest to get Alarielle’s seed-pod away from Torglug. It focuses on a group of Naerids, effectively water-based Sylvaneth, and their unknown contributions to this effort.

It is very short, and cheap, so I’d recommend anyone interested in reading a bit about Ghyran to try it out. I don’t want to spoil the plot but I’ll reveal two details I liked;

First: A Demigod with the sort of body-structure you’d expect from actual mythology, a giant plantkton-encrusted man who has two serpent tails instead of legs.

Two: The idea of water-based Sylvaneth is actually really cool, and I think they’d look amazing.

WIP Bloodwrack Medusa

Jaz’mahnn twitched his ears. His upper ears didn’t catch it at first, a high caress to the lower ears’ drums. It was a minute song…a whisper in the breeze. His long lower legs stepped slowly on the water’s surface, the barest rippling of disturbance in the Bog of Woes. The Keeper of Secrets was hunting for his namesake. His tail swished long and slow. Neverborn instinctively recoiling from the greater daemon of Slaanesh. This giant of condensed power. His skin a mute marble while his fin-feathers were pulsating of beautiful, hypnotic colours. Throat-vents flexing and pushing a haunting music. 

Their music slowly were hunting for each other. He can see the streams dancing in the strangling fogs. The hint of bones and decaying wanderers trapped in the fauna, many restful and others frozen in their last moments, reaching for freedom.

His pitch swimming like a serpent in the water. And his prey returned with sharper ha’s. Swoons and pitches, manifesting the sensations of two snakes testing and slithering at each other, trying to keep out of each other’s reach and teasing. The y were growing higher and higher while Jaz’mahnn maneuvered through the floating tree-isles. Then there was a hanging pause. Tension. 

The daemon’s ears flicked. Suddenly one of the trees moved, a branch became a clawed arm lashing at him. In a turn, Jaz’mahnn turned the offending limb into splinters with a off-handish smash of his back-claw. The Sylveneth treeman howled as he pulled and lifted a fist to smash the intruder but the Slaaneshi daemon was faster, his fist thrusted through bark and what was its face. With a flex, the entire being exploded. Ear twitched. Claws still embedded in a length of wood, he made a quick movement and a dozen arrowheads punctured into what remained of the treeman. 

Aelves were rushing in the fog, bounding off the isles and firing more arrows, along with the living trees revealing themselves. Jaz’mahnn salivated at the score of wanderers that dare to challenge him, his vocals sung. His feminine voice rising, the woods rippling. The fae melody becomes sharp and manifesting.

More arrows soared through the air and the daemon opened his arms, his song climbing and the fog becoming a writhing thing before twisting around, becoming a living barrier that redirected and splintered the projectiles. Tree-revenants with their ghyran-enchanted glaives and blades shining lunging. Jaz’mahnn spiralled and danced, his armored hand gestured and manifested a scourge of several silver-hooked tendons  before snapping forward. 

The thunderclap sundered several and thrown more out of his path, disturbing the waters and parting them to the death-consuming muck below. The sight of fiends underneath lunging forward, lunging out with their powerful limbs and tails to engage with the protectors of the grove. 

And the song continued, Jaz’mahnn and the enchantress in the bog did a duet as he pivoted, spun and lunged. The defiance of life against the minions of the dhurish wind clashing. A waystrider came for him with a blessed spear and, with unnatural flexibility for a thing so tall, the keeper bent backwards with a snap of his spine. Twisting with inhuman speed and promptly kicked the aelf into a number of trees. 

His song grew and from the fogs, cyclopic beings festering of rot and overabundant life emerged from the waters and walked the isles. Heavy blades and maces in claws, long tails ending with clubs swung behind each step. Bodies bowed by shells growing fungi and pulsating trees of their own, their blightful minds summoned and engaged in battle. Chaos consuming the former eerie calm of the bog, the forsaken children answering the deepest call of their singing mistress. To part the way for her guest.