The sprouted. That is what the natives call those who have bore witness to the tree of whispers and were lucky enough to receive their seed. Those who have been blessed by the tree are seen as elite beings capable of withstanding any tribulation cast their way. Most inhabitants of Idris treat the sprouted with respect while others have learned to fear and perhaps even hate them. It is not uncommon to find smaller herds who abhor the idea of magic and violently reject it, seeing it more as an unnatural phenomenon that teeters on the thin border of cursed and taboo.

Aeons ago wars were waged in the name of the sprouted and the elements they commanded. A great divide happened upon Idris where you held worth only if you were claimed by an element.

Earth. Fire. Water. Air. Those were the primordial forces of Idris, the four great clans that once ruled the land. Any child born into those clans who could not obtain their seed was cast away into the wilds to fend for themselves - oftentimes, they would die. If the tree gave you an element that your clan did not possess, you were killed. It was a darker era, one that the Good Mother had long since put an end to. Many do not remember those war-strewn ages, but rumours still whisper and stories are passed down throughout the generations.

Will the cervids learn from their morbid history or will it rear its ugly head and sweep across the land on the thundering hooves of war?