Withdrawn.

[hider=Scion][b]Identity:[/b] Ogrenauth. The Six That Are One. The Axe, The Spear, The Bow, The Smith, The Mage, The Shadow (individually). 

[b]Type:[/b] Scion

[b]Myth:[/b] [i]"Heed me, citizens of Marleon and children of the Exalted! Heed my words and learn from them! I speak the truth, and the Exalted speaks through me! Listen, and learn! 

There are none more reviled by the Exalted than the Coward and the Traitor. Those of you who doubt my words need only to look at the most wretched and debased of the Fell peoples. Those foul beings we know as [b]Ogres[/b]. They were not always these pathetic creatures we know today. They were not always driven by gluttony, cursed with stupidity, and eradicated to the verge of extinction. Indeed, before the time of the Great War, before the Black God's arrival, they were a proud and mighty people. 

Do not laugh, children of the Exalted! It was many years before the Dawn Days, but they were not always the towering brutes we have defeated today. They lived on the Broken Isles, then a unified land off the coast of Outremer. The island's name, and the names of the six tribes that inhabited it, have been struck from the memory of man. The erasing of their name and history is the least of the Exalted's punishments. These six tribes were large and powerful, constantly battling with one another for control over their island. But even they could not withstand the foul armies of the Black God that arrived upon their shores. Pushed back by the hordes of monsters and the terrible Scions that lead them, the tribes turned to a terrible ritual in desperation. The mightiest champion of each tribe went forth to this ritual and in a profane act against all that is good, they combined their souls and powers for the strength to resist the invasion. Through this foul act, they reached powers they had never dreamed of separately and together they began to push back the tide. They began to save their island, and unite their peoples. 

Then the Black God arrived on their shores himself, and smote them down. 

Fearing for the fate of their peoples, the six made a deal with the Greatest of Evils. They and their people would serve him, and in return they would be allowed to live. The Black God agreed, and their island was spared. 

Do not let pity enter your hearts, children of the Exalted! Do not think that this was a reasonable choice, an understandable act.  Through this cowardly act, seeking only to save themselves and their kin, the six betrayed the Exalted and doomed their island! Through their cowardice, their willingness to give up their values, their lives, and their very souls, they butchered many an innocent on Outremer at the head of the Black God's armies! The six became known as the Ogrenauth, abomination in the Old Tongue. Their names have been struck from the memory of man, these shards of the abomination, but their titles and their atrocities remain!

The Axe. He who shattered the impenetrable gate of the Ruthan, the mightiest city of its age. He drowned the city in its own blood, for no weapon could pierce his skin and no armor nor fortification could resist his strength.

The Spear. He who lead the slaughter of the army of the First Crusade against the Black God. To face him in battle was to know defeat, for he saw his opponent's actions before they happened. 

The Bow. He who destroyed the great griffins, the Exalted's favoured beasts of the sky. They could not escape his wrath, for his aim never missed. 

The Smith. She who emptied the land of Arugoth. Using dark rituals she forced the souls of her victims to power her foul bronze creations, made in the mockery of man. Fire was her friend, and the blood of the earth did her no harm.

The Mage. She whose blood ritual of a thousand prisoners summoned the storm that sank the Exalted's first Fleet, preventing the invasion of her isle. Countless foul curses, dark blessings, and profane rituals came from her lips.

The Shadow. She who stole into the heart of the Great Marleon, and massacred the royal family. The shadows and night protected her, preventing her from being seen.

Separately, the Ogrenauth were powerful. Together, they were terrifying. Their powers expanded beyond themselves, and they were akin to a force of nature that seemingly could not be stopped. But stop them the Exalted and his chosen did! So great was the power of his Chosen that they battled with the Ogrenauth and the Black God's other Scions toe to toe! The Exalted, at the head of his great army, struck down the Black God in the war's final battles. Seeing their foul God fall, the Ogrenauth fled to their island with their people and abandoned their fellow Scions. 

After finishing the battle, so great was The Exalted's disgust that he fell upon the Ogrenauth's isle with a burning fury. He shattered the isle, turning it into the Broken Isles we know today. He massacred nearly all of the six tribes, and cursed the survivors to the wretched, stupid, existence they know today.

And the Ogrenauth? The Exalted ripped their soul from the bodies it shared and bound its six parts to different parts of the isle, doomed forevermore to stare out over the shattered remains of their home. 

The Coward and the Traitor, children of the Exalted. None are more reviled."[/i]
[/hider]
[hider=Rogue Being]

Identity: [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/54/a4/af/54a4af36595f5ef776735c136ae655ce.jpg]Rukath[/url]

Type: Rogue Being

Myth: "But Da, you have to [i]listen![/i] I saw it with my own eyes! The hill moved just like gr-" Rogal was cut off by an angry hand wave and a harsh "Enough!" from his father. The two of them were riding the family wagon away from their small village, laden with vegetables and wool from their harvest, being dutifully pulled by two tired horses.  They'd only been going an hour, but they were getting dangerously close to the cursed hill. The hill where the troll was almost certainly waiting for them. Rogal had tried to warn his father of what he had seen, but his father wouldn't believe him. It was incredibly frustrating. 

Rogal's father sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. "Your grandfather had been mad from the day he slipped and cracked his head against that stone. You [i]know[/i] that. By the White God, he would claim to see fairies cursing our crops! It was damn near a blessing the day he died, Exalted forgive me." Rogal shrank away as his father turned to face him, an angry look on his face. "The fact that you still believe in his mad babblings at 12 years old is disgraceful."

"But I [i]saw[/i] it-" Rogal's protest was cut off by another hand wave. "No, what you did was fall asleep watching the flock again! You had a nightmare, that's all. This isn't even troll country, much less a secret resting place of a great monster."

Rogal shook his head in frustration. "Yes it [i]is[/i] Da!" He kept talking, ignoring his father's groan. "It was just like Grandpa said. Midday, the hill started moving. Something clawed its way out of the ground, like it had been buried! I saw four arms and a giant mouth, filled with teeth! But there was blood coming from the mouth, like it had been hurt. It was struggling to move when this giant troll, bigger than the trees, came out of the woods! It howled and just started...started...[i]eating[/i] the hill! The hill couldn't fight it off and the Troll just kept tearing into it! And it grew da! It grew as it was eating the hill! I tried to sneak away but I accidentally stepped on a stick and it saw me! It saw me and I'm sure it followed me and we have to go and warn the town and get the knig-!" Rogal's breathless stream of words was cut off by his father's agnry shout. 

"That's enough Rogal! If you don't stop with your ridiculous tale, I swear I'll tan your-" There was a blur of green movement and Rogal was thrown from the wagon as something slammed into the front of it. He crashed against a tree and then hit the ground. There was awful screaming and tearing noises behind him. Rogal tried to get up, to move, but his lungs wouldn't draw breath. His head spun, even though he was sure he was laying on the ground still. With difficulty, he flipped himself over and looked at the road.

The wagon was shattered, it's goods scattered over the ground. There was a large green shape crouching over the front of it. The screams had stopped, and all that was left was a terrible crunching sound. He tried to pull himself away, to get away from the overpowering smell of gore, but as he put pressure on his wrist sharp pain shot up it and he screamed. 

The shape whirled around, a hand still hanging from its jaws. It was the troll from earlier, staring at him with those same golden eyes. It swallowed the hand and stood. Rogal could swear that it grew as finished eating the hand.

"Rogal." 

The troll spoke his name, slowly and carefully. Rogal's mind and body froze in response. The troll had spoke. In [i]common[/i]. It said his [i]name[/i]. Trolls can't speak common. Trolls can't speak common. Trolls can't speak common.

The thought repeated through Rogal's mind as the large green hand reached for him. 

"Rogal."[/hider]