CROCREN

Crocren: Keepers of the Southern Whisper
A Codex of the Crocren Marsh-Realms
“Wisdom is not loud. It perches.”
In the deep south of Myrr’Kael—beyond the choking mangroves, past the reedfields where mist sits heavy and unmoving—dwell the Crocren. Scaled and deliberate, they build their huts on stilts above patient waters. Their homes are woven from reed and lacquered bark, their fires burn low, their voices lower.
They are not conquerors by instinct.
They are listeners.
Their closest neighbors are the Drizzak—fierce, disciplined, iron-minded. Where Crocren ponder, Drizzak act. Together, they form what the north would later call the Bongonian Host. They themselves prefer a quieter name: The Southern Concord.
I. The Spirit Birds
When a Crocren reaches five scores of age, they undergo the Binding of Feathers. On that day, a spirit bird chooses them. Not summoned. Not assigned. Chosen.
The birds are not beasts of flesh. They are luminous echoes of thought—avian forms of arcane resonance. Each perches upon the shoulder, hut beam, or lily stalk beside its Crocren companion.
They speak when needed.
They question when ego swells.
They correct without insult.
Some call them teachers.
Others call them mirrors with wings.
A Crocren without their spirit bird is not incomplete—but slower to reflection. With the bird, thought becomes dialogue. Reflection becomes conversation. Wisdom accelerates.
II. The Withering South
For many scores, the southern marshlands flourished. Fish teemed. Root-vegetation thickened. Drizzak patrols kept predators at bay.
Then came subtle change.
Water levels shifted.
Marsh-plants sickened.
Certain hunting grounds dried or drowned.
Spirit birds whispered of imbalance.
Crocren scholars traced ley-lines of arcane flow and found something troubling: a disproportionate pull northeast. Toward Vaelthyr—the colossal tree that pierced sky and myth alike.
Whether the tree consumed too much arcane essence or merely redirected it, none could prove. But the southern wetlands were thinning.
And the spirit birds agreed on one point:
“The balance is not even.”
III. The March to the Living Crown
The Crocren leader—Speaker Heshar of the Concord—resolved to confront the source.
Not to worship.
Not to admire.
To negotiate—or, if necessary, to end.
They marched northeast with Drizzak phalanxes beside them. Upon reaching Vaelthyr’s outer reaches, they saw its magnitude. A living spire blotting sky.
Before they could step within meaningful range, the air split.
Arrows fell.
Spears rained.
Hawthryn wings darkened the canopy above.
The Crocren had no sky-defense. No vertical reach. They were pinned by gravity and outmatched by altitude.
Speaker Heshar ordered retreat.
The Living Crown would not fall that day.
IV. The Northern Claim
If the tree could not be cut, then territory must be found.
The Southern Concord moved northward, seeking land less depleted, less overshadowed by arcane imbalance.
They found the Groglings.
Mud-bound. Broad. Calm.
Speaker Heshar demanded relocation.
The Groglings laughed.
Laughter in the face of a formal demand is not diplomacy.
The Chief of the Southern Concord did not appreciate humor.
Thus began the Long War.
V. War of Marsh and Reed
For a time, the Southern Concord held advantage.
Crocren strategy paired with Drizzak aggression proved formidable. Numbers favored them. Their coordination was disciplined.
Groglings struck from reeds and vanished. Ambushes became legend. Yet pressure mounted.
Victory seemed within reach.
Until the sea moved.
From western waters rose a monstrous silhouette—steel and fin. The MEGABROHDON Brohthership breached like a mechanical leviathan.
Cannons roared.
Crocren riverposts shattered under bombardment. Drizzak supply routes collapsed. Simultaneously, Groglings advanced from land with Brohtaur force and Brohlax anchoring lines.
The Southern Concord was broken.
Not destroyed.
But humbled.
They retreated south, wounded in pride more than flesh.
VI. The Memory of Defeat
Crocren do not forget.
Spirit birds replay moments not as torment, but as study. The defeat was analyzed from every angle.
“Where did we overreach?”
“Where did we assume?”
“Where did we ignore tide?”
They would not rush north again without certainty.
And certainty came not from steel—but from light.
VII. The Firefly Subversion
Word reached the south that Groglings now relied on arcane fireflies—messengers and observers of swamp and sky.
The Crocren recognized opportunity.
Fireflies could carry sight.
They could also carry suggestion.
Crocren and Drizzak handlers began intercepting stray swarms. With careful arcane inflection, they altered impressions. A glimmer here. A phantom patrol there. False clustering. Fabricated absence.
They did not shout lies.
They whispered distortions.
Fireflies returned north with corrupted patterns.
Groglings argued.
Councils fractured.
Interpretations clashed.
The Southern Concord did not need to march.
They only needed patience.
VIII. The Southern Doctrine
Today, the Crocren remain in the deep south.
They train quietly.
They consult their spirit birds.
They watch both sky and swamp.
They have learned that force is loud but influence is enduring.
As one elder Crocren once said beneath a low-burning lantern:
“Let others swing blades.
We will move currents.”
The Southern Concord waits.
Not in rage.
In calculation.
For balance is not restored by reaction.
It is restored by timing.