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I

c. 80,000 PC

“Hearken, and I shall tell you of the blackest and most fearsome world, known as Kydahn—once the hated high throneworld of the antique codes, where trays of silver tribute gleamed before mighty kings and sorcerers among the ancient stars.
The White Wolves of Elder Kydahn ruled the galaxy for eons uncounted.
Antinomian and glacial beyond mortal comprehension, they were the coldest minds of that aged Vandyrian Race. The stars themselves whispered curses against their names, yet the Wolves answered only with laughter like cracking ice, setting their boots upon the throats of foreign kings and making cruel sport of heathen queens. In their hubris, they damned the very name of the Kydahni. And For a time, Kydahn waged merciless war upon the worlds of Ran.
Thanator and Kydahn loosed the hounds of carnage together, yet in the end Kydahn was broken and hewn asunder. Thanator rose victorious from that cosmic slaughter and carved a vengeance both terrible and precise upon its fallen rival.

And so, To the victor went the spoils. “

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II

c. 3750 AC

“Yet all triumphs prove fleeting before greater powers. In time, Thanator, Kydahn, Farydahn, Rethka, barbarous Vandyrus, pitiful Jotun—even the blue beast of Titanum—were all shaken to their roots by the wake of Doom, that cataclysmic harbinger which reset the clock of civilization and shattered every imperial dream to dust. Kydahn’s world was reduced to utter ruin.
Its molten core bled into the void. Its once-proud cities toppled, and colossal structures were hurled from the scarred surface into the black, destined to drift as silent crypts once the last breath of air fled. That death came slowly, over a full generation—a slow, maddening unraveling. Yet it was those wretched souls who clung to survival upon the poisoned surface who suffered the truest curse.
Thus began a cruel and twisted age. Elder Kydahn slipped first into myth, then into whispered legend, and at last into the oblivion of forgotten memory.
Though the sciences clawed their way back into the light, the civilizations of Vandyrus were forced to confront those buried histories once more. The world of Darkest Kydahn was rediscovered in the farthest reaches of the outer void—shattered, starved of Ran’s light, lying deeper into the abyss than even Rywar by our reckoning.”

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III

c. 9500 AC

“It was however by some vicious whim of fate or fury, Kydahn refuses to perish entirely. Even now, probes sent into its upper atmosphere return grainy images of ash-haunted lost imperial ruins. Between the shattered spires glide bat-winged shapes, colossal insects scuttle on jointed limbs, and frail, scurrying things best left unnamed dart through the gloom. Audio feeds capture the raw cries of mammalian throats, the wet clicking of massive mandibles, the heavy leathery snap of wings—and, most harrowing of all, the unmistakable screams of Vandyrian predation, echoing as though the old hunters still stalk their prey.
Just as Vandyria once existed, its memory and absence still haunting us, so too did Elder Kydahn. But where Vandyria offers only ghosts of what was lost, Kydahn delivers something far worse: the living horror of what remains.
Out there, far beyond Ran’s cold blue light and its hollow promise of civilization, something yet stirs in the dark.

Beware that place.


For it remains well and truly cursed.”

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