Lore

Exanite! It is the single most glorious word I have ever heard. It is a word of the Makers, but it now belongs to the Osun of Voreth. And only I, Trogun, know the secrets of forging it into weapons and armor of terrible strength and power!

The offworlders and outsiders know not of exanite, but they will learn. They will learn at the hands of mighty Osun warriors wielding unbreakable blades, hammers that can shatter the very bones of the earth, and clad in shield and plate
that will never shatter.

Perhaps the fools believe they too can be masters of this holy metal. Perhaps they hope to steal its secrets away from me, from the Voreth Osun, from the Makers themselves. They are welcome to try. The pits thirst for new blood, and the souls of fleshlings who dare enter the sacred fortress of Kel Voreth will pay the price.

There are those among us, heretics and traitors, who claim I, Trogun, do not truly understand the secrets of exanite. Those who call
me fraud or deceiver. They claim it is the elementals of Voreth who truly forge the exanite. They say the forgemaster is nothing without his elemental masters. They are liars all! I, Trogun, am in control. The elemental demons of Voreth serve me, and me alone. They are slaves of the Osun, just as all interlopers on this world shall be when we are done.

So swears Trogun, Forgemaster of Kel Voreth!

Lore

[This diary details the capture of Sharna, a Draken female who was the sole survivor of an Osun attack on her village. She has been fighting in the Blood Pits so long, she had time to compile this document between matches. Her current fate is not indicated within the text.]

I thought the Osun to be great warriors. Enemies, yes, but enemies to be admired. Fierce and strong.

The Osun are cowards and thieves.

My village was just beginning. A small gift of land from the emperor on this strange Eldan
world. We hunted the prey of this new wilderness eagerly, and thanked the gods of old for this bounty. Then the Osun came. There was no honor in these creatures, no thirst for the hunt. They only sought to conquer and kill with no purpose but blood.

I may be the only survivor. I do not know. All I know is the Osun took me, broken and injured but still defiant, and threw me into this pit. And since then I kill every day to stay alive. Not for prey, as a Draken should, but for the amusement of these
gray giants. They will die swiftly for this.

I marked the days when I first arrived, but for naught. The Osun took sick joy in finding and destroying the marks when they threw me into the pit to fight for them. If I had to guess, I would say years. If I had to trust senses, it may have only been days.

And so I fight. Dumb beasts, other slaves – for that is all I am, I see that now – and I slay them all. The Osun do not allow surrender in the Blood Pits.