### **The Setting of the Lykaios: The Deep within the Branwyld**
In the darkest reaches of the Branwyld, far beyond where any human or elf dares tread, lies the domain of the Lykaios. This part of the forest, known to outsiders only in whispered rumors, is called **The Deep**. Here, the trees grow thicker, their trunks twisted and ancient, their canopies so dense that sunlight barely touches the forest floor. Shadows reign here, draped in a constant shroud of mist that coils around the roots of the towering trees. The air is heavy with the scent of earth and damp wood, and the silence is broken only by the occasional flutter of a raven's wing or the distant howl of a creature unseen.
The Lykaios live high above the forest floor, in villages woven into the trees themselves. Their homes are not mere shelters, but living structures—massive branches that have been coaxed into shape by the magic of the forest. Each dwelling is connected by rope bridges that sway with the wind, blending seamlessly with the foliage. The Lykaios move between these treetop homes with the ease of predators, their movements as silent as the mist that cloaks their world. To outsiders, it would seem as though the village materializes from the trees themselves, hidden until the Lykaios wish to be seen.
The village center, known as **The Moon’s Rest**, is where the elders—the **Leafkeepers**—hold council. This sacred space is built around an ancient, hollowed-out tree whose roots plunge deep into the heart of the Branwyld. At night, when the moon rises, the tree’s bark glows faintly with the pale light of old magic, illuminating the village in a soft, otherworldly glow. The Lykaios gather here during moonlit nights for their rituals, where they honor their ancestors and the forest spirits who guide them. The wind carries their low, haunting chants through the trees, as if the Branwyld itself sings with them.
Below the treetop homes, the forest floor is a maze of roots, vines, and hidden dangers. It is a place few dare to venture. The forest is alive in ways that the Lykaios understand but others cannot. There are whispers of **watchful spirits** who dwell within the trees, and of creatures born of ancient magic that stalk the shadows. The Lykaios, attuned to the forest’s pulse, move through it with reverence, for they know that the Branwyld is not merely their home—it is their protector and their most dangerous adversary. The uninitiated, however, find only death in the depths of The Deep.
Scattered throughout the forest are **the Remnants**—ancient stone ruins of a long-forgotten civilization, overgrown with moss and vines. These ruins are sacred to the Lykaios, who believe that the spirits of their ancestors linger there, guarding the secrets of the past. It is here that the Lykaios come to craft their magical wooden weapons and shields, imbuing them with the power of the Branwyld. The magic is drawn from the forest itself, woven into the wood by the hands of skilled artisans who have passed down their craft through generations.
The **Nightrun**, an ancient trail that winds through The Deep, leads to the heart of the forest—a place so thick with magic that it is said the trees themselves are alive with consciousness. Only the bravest of the Lykaios tread this path, for it is both a rite of passage and a test of survival. Those who walk the Nightrun return changed, their senses sharpened, their connection to the Branwyld deepened. Some say that the forest whispers to them, granting them visions of the past and the future.
