“Hearken, and I shall tell you of the blackest and most fearsome world, known as Kydahn—once the hated high throne-world 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.”
—The Thanatorian Codex
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“Kydahn, long stripped of any pretense to paradisiacal splendor, had lost the delicate equilibrium of its native ecologies generations before the close of the Twenty-Sixth Age. The old myths—of gardens, of rivers, of a world verdant and benign—had already decayed into the realm of ancestral fiction by the time the great storms became ceaseless. By then, weather itself had transformed from a pattern to an affliction, with thunderheads mounting in endless procession, sheeting rain and electrostatic violence falling with such regularity that daylight and night became indistinguishable beneath the bruised heavens. The planet’s surface was battered relentlessly, its landscapes scoured to bone and fissure, its seas whipped into permanent fury.”
“Though Kydahn’s civilization had descended into an age of weary decadence, there was never a point at which it could be called helpless. The arcological cities, their superstructures streaked by perpetual rain and lashed by lightning without cease, were no mere havens for the powerless or the resigned.“
—Excerpts From ‘The Book of Worlds’
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