All trespassers will learn to fear the wrath of Athel Loren and its eternal defenders. The season of war commences, and the hosts of the Wild Hunt gather in numbers unseen before. Every broken branch and withered leaf carries an omen of dark times to come, a doom from which Athel Loren will not be spared if the Wood Elves don't act. As the taint of Chaos spreads, the Woldroots rot and the weave of life and death spins further out of balance. However, even the Asrai have begun to recognize that hiding themselves away from the world is a luxury they can no longer afford. In truth, the Asrai care little for the affairs of the other races, except to keep their prying eyes and hands away from Athel Loren. To outsiders, their motives can seem inscrutable, and their nature capricious and arbitrary. The Wood Elves hold themselves to be the only true Elves left, spurning both the sanctimonious arrogance of the High Elves and the murderous decadence of the Dark Elves, instead embracing both the light and dark aspects of their souls. Accompanying the Asrai are the forest's spirits: vengeful Dryads rip through enemies with seething malice, and colossal Treemen pulverise entire battalions with their gnarled fists. Hidden by the forest's mists and boughs, they first blacken the sky with arrow volleys of unerring accuracy then, before the confused enemy can react, the hunting horn is sound and the Elves ride out from the woods, striking down the foe with blinding speed and wild fury. Only a fool would goad the Wood Elves to conflict, for when their homeland is threatened, they prove to be utterly ruthless. There, under its ancient branches, the Elves first communed with the forest's spirits, and forged a pact: their fates would forever be bound to Athel Loren, living in harmony with the sentient forest, but sworn to defend it against all enemies.

They ventured deeper into Athel Loren, until they reached the great Oak of Ages at its heart.

Originally Elven colonists who settled on the edges of the forest in centuries past, when the Phoenix King, during the war with the Dwarfs, ordered all Elves to return to Ulthuan, they refused to abandon their homes and declared independence. It is under the canopy of this mysterious, enchanted realm that the most reclusive and secretive of the Elven peoples dwell: the Asrai, or Wood Elves. Almost as old as the world itself, Athel Loren is a place steeped in ancient magic, where time seems to flow differently, the creak and groan of living wood echoes, and half-seen spirits dart between the twilit groves. On the western slopes of the Great Mountains, between the lands of Bretonnia and the Empire, lies the great forest of Athel Loren. If a foe takes a single step upon such sacred soil, they shall not take another.' 'Athel Loren shall not suffer the presence of Men, nor Orcs, nor Dwarfs, nor Beastmen.

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