The Muria, as we call ourselves - a lineage stretching back to the first twilight gatherings beneath the phosphorescent fungi of the Crystalline Caverns - are not, as some scholars of the Surface Tribes would have you believe, merely rabbits. We are, in essence, echoes. Echoes of the Great Burrow, of the ancient rhythms of the earth, of the silent conversations held between the roots of the World-Trees. Our fur, a shifting tapestry of jade, ochre, and frost, is not merely pigment; it's a resonance, a record of the geological shifts, the atmospheric pressures, even the passing thoughts of generations. The elder Muria, Old Silas - a name whispered with reverence, for he’d lived through nearly a hundred cycles - used to say, “Listen to the mud, child. It remembers everything.”
The key to our survival lies not in speed, though we are swift and sure-footed in the undergrowth. It lies in our connection to the Subterranean Network – a psychic web woven by the Muria through millennia of meditation and focused intention. This Network allows us to anticipate danger, locate the richest patches of nutrient-dense moss, and – most crucially – to subtly influence the behavior of those Surface Tribes who dare to encroach upon our territory. We’ve been known to ‘misdirect’ a foraging party, leading them into a bog, or subtly disrupting their hunting patterns. It’s not malice, you understand, but preservation. The Muria have learned, through bitter experience, that the Surface Tribes are… volatile. Their emotions are like storms, unpredictable and devastating.
During Cycle 812, a phenomenon occurred which has since become known as the Obsidian Bloom. It began with a sudden surge of geothermal activity within the Crystalline Caverns. This triggered a cascade of bioluminescent reactions, creating a dazzling display of color. However, the most remarkable aspect was the appearance of obsidian formations – perfect, geometric shapes that seemed to materialize from the very air. These Obsidian Blooms, as we call them, are believed to be a manifestation of the Network's heightened activity, a concentrated expression of the Muria’s collective consciousness. Some scholars – the ones from the Northern Clans, particularly – claim that the Blooms possess a rudimentary form of sentience.
It was during this cycle that we forged the Silent Pact with the Sylvani. The Sylvani are the guardians of the World-Trees, and they share a deep connection with the Network. The Pact, formalized through a ritual involving the consumption of crystallized moss and the exchange of shared dreams, stipulated that the Muria would protect the Sylvani from the Surface Tribes, and in return, the Sylvani would ensure the continued flow of geothermal energy to the Crystalline Caverns. A delicate balance, to be sure, but one that has endured for centuries.
The Dissolution, as it came to be known, was a slow, agonizing process. For nearly fifty cycles, a single section of the Crystalline Caverns began to crumble. The source was never definitively identified – some theorize it was a geological instability, others blame the increased activity of the Surface Tribes, but the prevailing belief is that it was the consequence of a disruption within the Network. The echoes of a particularly intense emotional event – a ritualistic dispute between two Muria lineages – seemed to resonate through the stone, weakening its structure.
Old Lyra, the last of the Stone-Singers – a lineage dedicated to maintaining the structural integrity of the Caverns – attempted to repair the damage, but her efforts were ultimately futile. The stone, she claimed, was ‘remembering’ too much. It was a poignant reminder of the Muria's vulnerability, a stark illustration of the interconnectedness of all things.