Chanra Lore

Long before the Oni came, before the mountains echoed with their bellows and the rivers ran red with blood, the Silver-Peak Goblins carved their home deep into the heart of Byodo’s mountains. Before Chanra, the Silver-Peak Goblins were much like the rest, raiders and scavengers, lurking in the highlands, fighting, stealing, and feuding with both humans and other goblin tribes. They were strong, yes, but their leader was weak, driven by little more than survival and greed.

Chanra was not born into power, nor did she seize it through treachery; she earned it. Even as a child, she heard the wind, felt the pulse of fire, knew which tunnels would hold, and which trees bore strong wood. She was small, even for a goblin, but fierce, her mind as sharp as a pickaxe’s edge.
By the time she had seen twenty winters, she had already called forth fire from stone, bade the winds to hush, and walked through snow untouched by frost. The spirits of earth, flame, and storm answered her call. And so, she became Shaman, a voice between the worlds.

When she came of age, she claimed her crown the way all goblins must. The old queen had mocked her, called her a fool for trusting humans, a root-licker who would lead them to ruin.
But Chanra beat the snot out of the old queen and grew to be a warqueen.
Chanra had no interest in leading another rabble of thieves and cutthroats. She saw a greater future for her people and used her talents to lead them.

They still played their tricks as all goblins must, stealing offerings only to return them fermented, swapping temple incense for dried wolf dung, but the raids on human settlements stopped. The tribe learned to trade, to bargain, to make their strength count for more than just steel and blood. They no longer fought over scraps but carved wealth from the mountain itself, their tunnels stretching like veins through the peaks. They became miners and traders, unearthing mana stones, precious metals, and gems, and bartering with the Imperial frontier for tools, food, and protection. Monks shared mountain paths with them, and villagers in the lowlands learned that goblins could be more than jesters and vermin.

But prosperity breeds envy.

The other goblin tribes of Byodo, wild and warlike, resented Silver-Peak. Little more than feral, they were used to skulking in swamps and raiding innocents from the shadows. Feuds, rivalries, disputes, and petty squabbles over land, trade, and pride with the Silver-Peak were endless.
Yet even as tensions grew, Chanra’s tribe held firm.

Then, one winter, the earth shook, and something old stirred beneath the peaks. Miners vanished. Deep tunnels collapsed overnight.
And then, the Oni came.
The great horns sounded, yet it was already too late.

The demons poured into the mines, tearing through stone and goblin alike. The warchiefs and queens of other clans were given a choice: serve or die.

Many chose to serve.
And in their servitude, they betrayed their kin.

The tribes fell in a single night. What goblins were not slaughtered were shackled, forced to dig not for gold, but for ruin, burrowing ever deeper, unearthing things that should have remained buried.
Chanra barely escaped, her body broken, her staff dripping with Oni blood. But no matter how many she killed, it was never enough.
Now, she wanders the mountains, a queen without a tribe.

For traitors, Chanra carries no mercy.
For the ones still trapped, she will bring them home.
And for the Oni who took her mountain?
For them, Chanra has only one thing left: vengeance.