Queen Rennala, first of her name, who went down in history amongst blood and flames. Beloved and detested alike no other, it was she who set in motion the eons-long conflict between the fae and the orcs; For they, the fairies, flourished in the harmonious greens of the west, whereas the orcs lay prowling in the dry east. Whenever the orcish tribes bled over the borders whence they fought their squabbles, the fae prodded them back into place; For their lucious lands befitted no drought of desert.

Born to a fiercely loyal couple, it was no wonder Rennala too grew up set to protect their territories. Taught well by her parents, she was but a teen when already proficient with a longbow. Many a morn were spent hunting predators off prey, orcs off bogs; Finding her way within nature, to give and take from it and upkeep its balance. Independence was plainly required of her, as her parents worked in the royal ranks and were oft away. It was this that earned her a spot within, upon recommendation by her very own kin.

Throughout the years, Rennala climbed these ranks, eventually finding her way amongst the highest. By then, well into her adulthood, the fairy had become one of the royals' most trusted, an extension of the ruler's hand as one of their many swords; She'd trained younglings, kept orcs at bay and led forces into the fray many a times by then. In word and sword she was wise, a star example of the fae; Her title thus became Rennala the Red, for she knew to spill blood where it was needed, but never exceeded. This was the first of many more names to come, each dousing the warrior into further legend.

— LAY OF THE LAND —

The fae had humble beginnings, their frail silhouettes matching the surrounding flora in size. Generation after generation, slowly the insect folk grew out of their pollen furniture and stalk homes; The pressure became higher, once their paths crossed with the brutes from the east. Both sides never agreeing as to what was best for nature, the border between shifted, more so to the left than right. Ensuring no eradication of the sort, scaled beings landed from the skies with their watchful eyes, splitting the two for hopefully good.

But perhaps the dragons had underestimated how stubborn puny people could be.

It was under Rennala the Red, that more territory than ever before was regained and redraped in greenery once more. The warrior had then served the royals loyally for over a decade, gaining much wisdom throughout. With her tactical mind put to it, Rennala provided an efficient strategy that turned the tides in their favour; For the fae had grown not only in size, but also in count, in need of lands more than the orcs could ever afford to use; A poison that drove away these gnarly savages, yet that fertilised the cracked ground underneath provided effective. Nature flourished, lands reclaimed, it was as if Rennala was a fae truly in tune with it.

Celebration came in waves, the first came when their territory's edge shifted ever so slightly to the east. The fae had finally come to match the orcs evenly, giving their folk the courage and strength needed to press on. The lands they sought returned was in their eyes rightfully theirs, finally being able to pack a punch against their packs of muscle. The first bits nipped away, might as well have been given freely, for the orcs saw the fae's point and hadn't put up much of a fight; Orcish outskirts hadn't been populated much save for wildlife anyway.

The second came with planted seeds bearing fruit, for it proved possible to drive off the desert and its hatred for mother nature. Finding their green thumbs once more, the fae rekindled flora and fauna thought long gone. A lost magic revived, with it returned the fairies' affinity to connect with nature to the whole populace. Roots and vines sticking deep into the ground below, occasionally seeping past the borders; Yet the orcs had no say in it, for they were not one with the world and thus had no right. It was even said the deity Dryadas had shown her face once more, bestowing her blessings upon the fae for thriving.

The third was for Rennala the Red, surrounding fae chanting her name over and over and over again. Expanding their territories, shifting the border to where it lay originally, the fae underneath Rennala's hand drove back the drought. With capable forces at her command, conflict against the orcs was reaching new heights- Yet Rennala dealt with each and every single one without breaking a sweat, proving herself formidable yet merciful. Shedding little blood, the warrior did not resort to slaying needlessly. Allowing the orcs to leave akin to dogs with tails between their legs, tales of the fierce fae soon spread outside their lands.

Moorsinger she became known as; For Rennala was said to have reinvigorated the fae with their will and returned life to the dead.

— QUEEN'S SWORD —

Having served the fae and their royals loyally, it was no wonder when Rennala was knighted to the then-ruler Cyllene. Bound in blood, a shadow to follow wherever she went; It was as if Rennala had become a consorted blade, never to leave her side. In a way, she was, for Rennala and Cyllene, both first of their names, formed a bond like no other yet never officiated on paper. It was akin to two trees entangling roots, not quite the same, yet connected in many complicated ways.

When word spread of the fae's influence, with it undoubtedly came forces after the royals' lives. Day and night Rennala stood watch, blade ready to fell any who tried. Sleepless rests as Rennala reassured her charge with honeyed words reserved for her only. Shifting eyes to each and every moving shadow, hand rested on the hilt permanently. Amongst Rennala's rank were others she entrusted with the same task, yet it was Rennala herself who took up post most.. Perhaps loyalty to a fault, according to hearsay.

It was she who stood besides queen Cyllene as if an attached limb. It was she who listened to the fae queen's throes and woes, providing understanding words even better than the royal advisor. It was she who littered the floor in rose petals behind Cyllene, as her queen walked down the aisle to be married off to someone else. It was she who closed the eyes' of her queen's predecessors, and laid them to rest to become one with the earth again. It was she who comforted her queen, as she wept behind closed doors with no desire to fulfil her royal duties. It was she who conspired with her queen to bear off the weight of bearing children.

And it was she, who had the honour to plant the first seed of what would grow into the world tree Yggdrasil (placeholder but it's funny so yggdrasil it is for now), a bustling hub for the fae to build the heart of their civilisation. By then, the fairies had specialised to life in the trees, and this would prove a statement to the entire planet that they were thriving. Specially grown by the greenest of thumbs, with a speckle of magic from queen Cyllene herself, the world tree sprouted soon after, but would take decades, perhaps centuries to grow to its fullest potential- Yet its influence was already visible.

For when it bore its first leaves, the surrounding forest changed its colours to the same, bright scarlet hues, matching Rennala's loyal red to the tin.

It was then, Rennala knew, she would happily do anything for her queen, even if it meant walking into death.

In her mind, it was a role perfectly befitting the Kiln of Scarlet.

— SCARLET SKIES —

It's said the flames and blood became one on that fateful night, rolling over the edge and turning the skies red. Faithful guard and even Rennala herself, knocked out as if they were mere flies. Intruders passing them by without a care, for there was no one to hear a pin drop. Scarlet seeped within her vision and over the floors as Rennala was the first to witness the massacre; Regent and queen, as well as any servants too fit to fall ill to the concocted potion. A single survivor tortured close to death, and it was clear the fae and orcs could never live in peace.

Out of everyone, Rennala the most loyal of all was the one to mourn the most; While most wept for both, Rennala's tears could fill rivers, lakes and the ocean for having lost her the queen. No wonder the kiln poured over.

Faekind was to witness it, as their lifeless corpses bodies were brought down to embrace the roots of the world tree; Rennala herself saw to the funeral arranged. Then it was simply picking herself up and going with the waves once more; For Cyllene never bore an heir, and thus the fae looked without question to her scarlet sword. As the faithful warrior raised her weapon in the skies, the, no, her subjects now, chanted with her, their voices rising to become eternal echoes in the skies. Vengeance sworn, and Rennala ensured she and her fae would have it.

Borders were patrolled on the daily. Stricter and more punishing regimes came in place. More fairies than ever before joining the forces, some even barely having become adults. No foreigner was to enter these sacred lands lest they sought to be slaughtered. Parties sent out to deal with the eastern barbarians closest, whether killed or taken prisoner mattered not. Praying for the dragons' aid once more, though that never came. The world tree spurting metres into the skies, yet full bloom still being years away. Tensions rising further, whispers talking of an oncoming war.

On a throne of twisted branches sat their new ruler with similar ilk, bent on her orders to be followed- And that they were, without hesitation, as if Rennala and her fae had but one goal to meet.

Engaging with the orcs became much more than mere territory and disagreements on nature's treatment. It was a matter of life and death, for the fae swore to never share the same land with these savanna savages again. The new fairy queen spearheaded against them, igniting fires that enraged- Ensuring that every single last fae was on the same page. Hatred seeping with scarlet all over, this planet was to be rid of this curse of drought. When none lended a hand in aid, the fae conjured one themselves.

"What have the dragons done for the fae?!" Rennala shouted over a crowd of hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands.

"NOTHING!" her fae responded in all.

"What have the fae done for us?!" the queen's voice boomed over.

"EVERYTHING!" came their answer, with all wings, hearts and thoughts beating as one.

Queen Rennala, first of her title, fully denounced the dragons they and the orcs alike had worshipped for so long. These entities had ruled over their ancestors, though they were nowhere to be seen in their true times of need now- The less they had in common with the desert dwellers, the better. Rising up in their stead, Rennala was worshipped by her fae as if she were their deity. She might as well've been, for she brought havoc to heights never seen before in fae history.

Pulling everything she had, Rennala employed methods and tactics normally thought too barbaric- If they were to defeat the enemy, they had to play the same nasty tricks on the field. Yet Queen Rennala had more up her sleeve; Scouring ancient texts, legends were found of tremors hidden way beneath earthen roots. Invoking magic thought forbidden, Rennala summoned beasts where mother nature couldn't reach- From widening cracks and rumbling quakes, ginormous insectoid entities rose from the grounds.

In the ancient times of yore, it was said their ancestors had beneficial ties with these titanic scarabs; On agreement to rid of the orcish pest, this bond was rejuvenated again, albeit handled differently this time. Filling the skies with velvet, these magnificent insects flew coated in bright red streaks. Mounted on each was a single fae, bearing the colours of their queen, ready to ride into the fray.

Tensions had always been there from both sides, but it was thanks to the Scarab Scourge that the dam fully broke- Blurring the border that lay between fae and orc.

— TAINTED VENGEANCE —

In their history, the fae were deemed their strongest during Queen Rennala's reign. Despite her harsh ways, they withstood- Despite the unthinkable methods to go against orcish initiative; Using acid to melt away the greenery, in place came glass domes covered in a protective layer of fae spit; Strong flying arrows to rip through wings, in place came ground-bound troops with hind coverage; Giant nets to hurl over mounted scarabs, in place came needle sharp armour that could cut through like scissors; Fires to hurt both flora and fauna, in place came sweeping magics the orcs were all the more prone to.

When their methods were taken down again and again, Queen Rennala sought out methods merely unthinkable today.

Being taught the occult magic of their scarab allies, which left a foul taste and visions of hellscapes. Experimentation with the magic held in their wings, whether by amplifying it in the fae attached to it or by simply ripping it off. The ancient texts do not talk in depth of the powdered wing poisons, of multiple ripped pairs stitched onto a subject, of magic reaching new heights through sacrificial wings and not lives, nor of the bleak, horrific true origin of elves- Wingless fae.

There was no way to sugarcoat it.

The Scarab Scourge's reign was brutal, and it lasted for years upon years. Living accounts would be willing to speak little or spill everything on it afterwards, depending on their opinion. Though one event they all agreed on, was Queen Rennala's greatest feat, that earned her her last and most infamous title.

The fae and orcs had been actively at war for nearly a decade, the border between shifting left and right with much unpredictability. Both sides had their victories and losses, but Queen Rennala ensured that her fae were bolstered with a willingness to die fighting. The ruler herself oft slashed scarlet on the field as well; It was thought her wings shone as red as the blood she spilled, coating them and her soul permanently.

As if her end was written by a poet, Queen Rennala's last fight was defending the world tree with every fibre within her. The slain royals' bodies long having become one with the trunk, it now stood nearly thrice as tall than the surrounding forest, its grounds considered sacred. If the orcs took it from them, then the fae as a people might as well die out- For this was their heart, their soul, their mother nature.

The fae were slowy driven back, yet held on as their queen demanded it. Layers upon layers of spells to protect the sacred. Every single fae on the field, even the orcs swore they could feel it- A deep humming, rumbling from within Yggdrasil became louder and louder- As if it pushed its roots into the planet's core and trembled with energy- As if it responded to the fae's resolve, to Queen Rennala flying towards the scarlet skies with her magic unfurled, to the last stand.

Folk crowded, winds howled, storms brewed and thunder struck- Yet it became as still as the dead, when the fae queen rose her sword to the skies and became one with red- Her voice booming loudly over the battlefield for all to hear, before plunging the sword into herself to offer the most demanding sacrifice.

Her last words echoed.

"RISE, MY GOD OF WAR."

Roots shot out from beneath and the rumbling quaked and the very ground itself split open and flames and blood spread as far as the eye could see, claiming screams and tears and-

From the bottom of the earth, within the velvet smoke a tremendous power rose.

Ghostly apparitions clawed through, splintering heart and bone on their way out. Fires engulfed the field, yet circled around Yggdrasil as if beckoning its sacred status. Fae remained untouched, as they witnessed this alien but divine entity reclaim their lands. Bloody veins connected, forming a clotted network and warping the now dead Queen Rennala into a cocoon. Scarlet magic seeped away from it, feeding this strange entity. When the mist laid low, the field scattered and shattered, the fae finally saw what divine intervention had been gifted them- Mother nature may turn her eye from him, yet it was this force that ensured the fae were safe.

Queen Rennala had brought, no, birthed War to them, and so it was she who went down embraced by blood and flame as the one and only Mother of War.