A Flight from Flame
The story of the Olmakhan begins with the charr of old, for there was once a time when we were no different. The first Olmakhan were not born into our family, but instead chose it for themselves.
Our first benefactors and elders were born and raised as all charr are: to parents uncaring, a fahrar unbending, a warband unyielding. Raised to fight, to kill, to win. But even these savage souls knew kinship to one another, loyalty beyond oneself, and an appreciation for the good of the many over the individual. It was the warband that mattered, not any one soldier. In fact, to be without a warband—the closest thing they knew to a family—was to know shameful isolation.
For the earliest of those who would be Olmakhan, the Flame Legion ruled over Blood, Iron, and Ash. They were ruthless beyond comprehension, driven by an insatiable lust for power over all living things.
It was Flame Legion will that prevented mothers and daughters of the charr from taking up arms or practicing magic, for the shamans rightly feared they would be their downfall. Even though these mothers and dauighters could control the sky itself, they were shunned by the Flame Legion as inferior to the fathers and sons on the battlefield. Bathea Havocbringer, martyr to all sensible charr, was the first to see through their lies. She would certainly not be the last.
For many generations, there was an imbalance in charr society. The Flame Legion would blame the humans, but to any with eyes it was clear that our people had become their own worst enemy. In the absence of humanity, the charr would continue to fight. Their entire worldview was constructed around domination and warfare. There would always be another foe, always another enemy to overcome, until they were at each others' throats and none were left alive.
For years, our benefactors despaired. How would we escape from this endless cycle of death and destruction?
Then the stories began to spread. Stories of rebellion.
Pyre Fierceshot was a name long whispered in hushed tones, for fear the Flame Legion's ears might hear it. He had worked with the humans to save our world, to stop the Flame Legion's false gods from destroying all we held dear.
Blood, Ash, and Iron began to draw closer to one another. An alliance was finally beginning to take shape, but the suspicions of the past were not easily overcome. Hesitation bred complacency in the ranks, and the Flame Legion found them easy prey.
For many years, we would hear of revolution. We would hear that the battle for freedom was coming. For a time, there would be a flicker of hope. Then the Flame Legion would gather their forces and destroy it.
It was in this time of great unease, when it seemed the Flame Legion's influence would burn away all remaining hope, that we began to hear the words of Kalla Scorchrazor, grandcub of the famed Fierceshot.
Within her words were the very ideas the Flame Legion sought to purge. Freedom for the mothers and daughters of the charr. An alliance between Blood, Ash, and Iron. Only through the destruction of the old ways could our kind ever be free.
Some charr took this as a sign to stand and fight. But our forebears had seen this again and again. Fighting begets fights, violence begets violence. The cycle anew.