"I have many, many names. Old names, that only the winds and trees can pronounce"
Ancient, more so than humans or elves.
The Ralshairn was created by Liam the Big.
In the Beginning, when Guthix breathed life into this plane, it created powerful beings of pure nature. These beings, imbuned by Guthix to protect nature in all its forms, did their job with a noble sense of purpose. One such being has come to be know as "The Ralsharin", or "Protector of the Stone".
The Ralsharin was a noble creature, however it was corrupted at some point during the third age. It watched in horror, as the Godwars destroyed its realm of power, what is now known as the Wilderness. With its realm of power destroyed, The Ralsharin slowly crept into madness, the blood stained battlefields of Forthinry slowly corrupting its power. The once noble creature slowly became a dark and sinister being hell bent on making all of the world like its realm of power now lay. In the early fourth age, five powerful magi came together, sacrificing themselves to seal the creature within an Iron urn. Before the mage's deaths, they created five magical weapions to bind the nature spirit to the urn.The urn was cast into the sea, with hopes that The Ralsharin would never again see the light of day. It was fished up off the coast of Lumbridge in the early fith age, roughly the year 100. The fisherman that retrieved the urn saw the depiction of the Ralsharin on it. His curiousity made him reach for the cover, and as he touched it, the boat rocked, making him drop the urn. He picked it back up, and it felt as though something withing called to him, begged to be released.With a blank expression, the fisherman ripped the cover of the urn off. What became of the urn, or the fishermen was never clear, as the entire boat was swallowed by the sea.
Although it is a being of pure energy, and can exist in any form it chooses, it does have a preferred form. It stands a full eight feet tall, and has the legs of a goat. It's long flowing hair, has patches of leaves growing from it. atop its noble head, lies a pair of mighty antlers. Its arms and torso are heavily muscled and it is often seen wielding a staff of some kind.
Being a creature of pure nature, it can alter nature around it on a whim. It has the ability to take any form it wishes, and can even take on a human form. It is nearly immortal, and will live indefinetly unless killed by an outside source. Due to the destruction of the wilderness during the Godwars, its powers are corrupted, giving its abilities a dark aura, almost an evil glow to them. It has been known to swallow whole settlements with the ground, causing a massive sinkhole. Another ability it flaunts is its ability to make trees, and other forms of nature, spring to life and do its bidding.
The Weapons of Sealing
The five magi that sealed the creature within the urn, did so with the help of five magical items. They are:
Forged of steel, tempered in the frozen north. It glows a faint gold, almost drawing a person in. It was found north of Varrock and now lies in the Varrock museum, on display.
Crafted of the finest oak, imbuned on the holy island of Entrana. It is carried by the high priest of Entrana, as a symbol of their holy position. It glows a faint white and is warm to the touch.
Forged of simple bronze, given its magical might in the sandy plains of Al Kharid. Its location is unknown, as it was lost long ago. It glows a faint blue, and is icy to the touch.
Made of a regal adamant, and trimmed in the finest gold, it was given its power in what is now known as Edgeville. It sits in Varrock Castle, in a display case.
Crafted of a very simple wood, it was lost in the Fremminik region long ago and has most likely decayed beyond use.
Harmonious the centuries The land and I were one My soil, my water, my air Bringer of light And master of night In balance, the earth in my care But with the passing of days A new wind came blowing With whispers of change on its wing This tide of corruption Laid siege to my world Usurping the throne of a king Your new gods, your new ways All seek to dispel me With doctrines of fear built on lies The hidden one, no longer I claim my dominion To the sun of your age, I arise Of your anger Your ignorance Your blindness Your greed Your progress Your conquest Your mania Your need Your sorrow Your sickness Your final, parting breath Your hatred Your bloodshed Your future Your death I will have none I will have none I will have none I will have none I, dread lord of shadows With broken spell Unto this rotting age I bid farewell