The Copse of Silence

A permanently wintery expanse of evergreen forests, craggy mountain peaks and tundra valleys. In this perfectly acoustic edge of Shyish, song came to be remembered even after it had passed from mortal minds. As the last living mortal to remember a song would perish, its melody and lyrics would be planted here. Growing high into the amethyst skies, any wind blown through the region playing the music once again as it courses through the branches of the songpines.

Nearby was the realmgate of Composer’s Pass, connecting not far off from the Living City in Ghyran. From here composer’s and bards from across the realm would travel to Cadenza to uncover lost songs of musicians long gone. At the realmgate, and only minorly within the underworld itself, Alarielle placed the Hallowpine glade to protect the site at any cost. For while the Spirit Song itself is unending, were anything to happen it would be there that the song would be interred and found again.

Many waypipers and musicians enjoyed their posting, hearing snippets of inspiration on the winds. They were not the only ones to be enthralled by the songbreezes of Cadenza, for Grandfather Nurgle is a fellow lover of musical arts. When the age of Chaos came, he sent army after army to take the realmgate of Composer’s Pass from the sylvaneth. When Alarielle hid away, the Hallowpine did what the only thing they thought was plausible and retreated into Cadenza and destroy the realmgate to keep the underworld out of Nurgle’s putrescent grasp.

Alone and cut off jade influence of Ghyran, the Hallowpine planted their lamentiri within the harsh soils of Shyish. Successful in their isolation, they were able to hold a small grasp upon the Spirit Song. Slowly but surely they began to take on the aspects of their new home. Leaves became needles, and their bark smoother. Their moods and attitudes dulled, but never quite erased. With the songs of the realms turning to dirges that lamented the waxing of the powers of Chaos, the trapped sylvaneth grew bitter at their creator. Not long after they turned from the nearly mute Spirit Song, finding solace in the music of the realm’s mortals.

After chaos finally waned, the Hallowpine were finally graced with the presence of a deity. Old Bones, Nagash himself had come to claim what he claimed was his. He had not expected the ilk of the Lifegiver in his realm. Always one for petty punishment, he decided not to collapse and absorb Cadenza. Instead he scoured the underworld and the sylvaneth of their winds and voices. An underworld of song and music, now an eternal silent winter. He left them to their maddening quietus and moved on to gather more of his strength.

It did not take long for lasting effects to appear on the sylvaneth, for the silence muffled their sanity. All the sounds were gone, but they couldn’t leave. It was make Cadenza vulnerable to attack and corruption. So the resolved to stay and let the silence take them. Most became spite revenants, silent tattered souls that brook no intrusion to the silent grave of song. Gone were the musical guardians of the Hallowpine glade, now only the silent cruel protectors of the Hollowpine remain.

A small glimmer of hope occurred at the coming of the Age of the Beast, Alarielle’s Lifequake reached even this edge of Shyish. A single note of the Spirit Song reached the boughs of Crimson Hemlock, their Spitelord Ancient leader. Weep as she did, for hope was not something her grove had heard for some time. She selected a number of her grove to be led by Titanneedle. She wrote out to them that they were to go out and find any inkling of that note and bring back anyone who could cure them of their curse.

With this hopeful order, Titanneedle and the Copse of Silence have set out upon the realms. Stalking the hidden ways, they bring their curse of silent winter with them. Where they tread, the winds of the realms quell and in their wake the quiet dead rot.