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In the days before Arlathan, there was a city in the mountains beloved by Dirthamen, Keeper of Secrets. Its people were wise beyond measure, thanks to his counsel, and the city flourished.
Then a high dragon settled in the mountains, and her hunger threatened the city. The elders cried out to Dirthamen for protection as the dragon's rampages struck ever closer, and for three days and nights, the people shut themselves in their homes and watched the skies in dread.
On the fourth day, Dirthamen heard them. He whispered into the mountains and the fallen trees of the forest gathered, shaping an immense and agile spider-like beast. It was the varterral. With lightning speed, vicious strikes, and venomous spit, it drove back the serpent. From then on, it was the guardian of the city and its people.
Many years passed. The gods were trapped by Fen'Harel and the people left to gather in Arlathan, but the varterral kept its everlasting vigil, guarding Dirthamen's city as it eventually crumbled to dust. To this day it stands there, watching over the rubble. Any travelers foolish enough to wander there find themselves face to face with wrath incarnate.
—From The Tale of the Varterral, as told by Gisharel, Keeper of the Ralaferin clan of Dalish elves