Sam

TheyThey call themselves the Bleakwilds Host — wood-elves born not of the Great Forest but of Naggaroth’s bleak pines, who tore across the world roots to Bretonnia on reports of a forest of eternal winter - hoping to save the suffocating wood from whatever magical suffering ails it.

Hardened by a lifetime of cold and by uneasy bargains with dark-elven raiders, the Bleakwild are rougher, faster and far less courtly than their cousins in the Great Forest: their charges strike like shards of ice, vanish into tree and mist, and leave the enemy wondering if the forest itself has turned against them.

Their rites keep a seam of Naggaroth’s winter in their blood — grim, beautiful, and inexorably untamed — a reminder that survival taught them to be hunters first and keepers second.