Writing was done here!!
Yay! Finally got something down after the 9 month (or so) dry spell. It's different, which could explain a bit...maybe I'm tired of rehashing the same story. Wish it'd rewrite itself...
Anyhow
History of the same story I've been writing about for the last... no, I'm not saying it... written in two points of view. Two parts of a 5 or 6 parter. Just depends on how much crap I can dish out.
The Elves
- as told by Severan Undril, betrothed of Chandra, Princess of the Elves of Shenador; future King of the Elves
We are the Elves, the most powerful of races, attuned to nature, magic and spirit like none other. Our history stretches back through time before Man made his hobbling way out of his cave, and will continue on long after he has disappeared.
There were many of us, once; perhaps as many as there are humans. But our kind does not replenish our numbers as quickly as those rutting animals do. The recent wars have taken its toll upon us, and our numbers dwindle to a dangerous point. Indeed, there are few of our elders left in the world as the old die and fighting claims our young before they reach that venerable age.
Two races of elves, the gods made. The Sunrise Elves, borne of fire and light. They are masters of weaving spell with precious stone, and delight in wearing their creations as decoration upon their person. The Starlight Elves, mysterious and foreboding as the night; creators of an unspeakable language, only written in ancient runic script. Great metalsmiths use the script to bind power into their work.
There is no quarrel between us; we’d like to believe we are above such petty differences as how physically different each one of our own was born. There are, however, factions that divide us; those of us who would rather live our lives without the fear of another human uprising that would most assuredly finish the job of eradicating our kind - and those who would sleep with the enemy. As disgusting as it may sound, they often take that metaphor entirely too literal, and it has given us these halfbreed mongrels, twisted excuses for souls, blindly grasping at natural ability graced to every elf, but no human could ever even conceive manipulating. Oh, they try, bumbling through phrases they don’t understand and making those absurd gestures. But magic, for us it is a part of what we are. Almost another sense, as your sight or touch would be. Our souls sing with its essence; we dance to its rhythm.
No human could understand that kind of connection. One would have better luck teaching a dog to play the harp.
Nearly a millennia ago, the last elven Queens sought to eradicate the dabbling of humans of the delicate fabric of magic, before they truly damaged something - besides themselves, of course. The Queens - three sisters who ruled where the elven castle Antares now lies - would have put an end to humans for all time. But it’s believed a spy had come into their midst and killed the three sisters with powerful magics. The blow was enough to send the rest of their armies packing, without a leader. Thus heralded the decline of the last Elven Era.
Elven politics dissolved into argumentation; whether we should allow humans to live in peace, as it was proving too costly in lives to support this campaign against them, or continue our assault on their growing number. No one could really decide what to do, and in the end did nothing. Meanwhile, humans grew, and their grasp for power grew. The face of their kingdoms changed many times before they finally struck against us, and sadly, struck us down.
Part of this was due to a new magic arising, and those possessing it were dubbed Songmasters. The elves failed to rid themselves of this threat and humans did exactly what we’d feared - corrupted magic itself. No elf was ever afflicted with this curse. However, the many humans that came into contact with these abominations that man had created of magic went mad with the taste of such power. Many of those died with it, and others took other hapless fools with them to the grave.
In retrospect, perhaps this curse opened their human eyes to our world, and the things couldn’t cope with what they found there. This simply proves that their little minds were never meant to handle magic’s essence. But I digress…
Few of them managed to stave off the madness, or perhaps were more lucid in their madness. These became the human kings who would rule over us and eventually drive us to the brink of extinction. Those of us who were not slaves went into hiding or risked being killed when the kings called their hunt for us, down to the last elven child. But by then, we had already made our plans. And we had found the one weapon that would break even their mightiest Songmaster.
The Dragons.
It is unknown among us just how two elves gained control of such mighty creatures, or what solemn pact they agreed upon. The Dragonmasters are something of a religion; they do not even live among their own kind after they are chosen. (The sole exception would be my stepdaughter - a reversal of fortune, as her kind were the dragons. That mystery of her parenthood is still something my beloved and I argue over.) The rest of their lives lie in secrecy, and after the beginnings of the wars, they refused to help us except in dire need.
Before they withdrew, our dragonriders brought the humans the war they so desired - razing their capitol city to the ground by the first nightfall. The human kings died in the rubble that day, and the human race has yet to recover from that devastating blow.
When Landry* passes beyond these mortal realms and I am crowned ruler of Shenador, I will make certain the humans don’t get a chance to recover.
* current ruler of Shenador, circa 432 E.U.
Histories
- as told by Lord Quentyn, present Lord of Antares
History has seen the Elves for many millennia, rising to great heights, and perhaps falling to even greater lows, before Man stepped out into the sun. And even as old as our race is, our wisdom still rivals our pride at the concept of sharing this world with humans.
It was long ago when Man first began retreating from the elvish armies of Queen Lillith - often called the Wolf Queen, for her hunger over control of this land was as ravenous as her namesake. Man had not only pressed his bounds to hold more territory, but he had also begun dabbling with the otherwise sacred art to the elves - magic. The Wolf Queen took offense, and demanded the humans be hunted to extinction.
Perhaps our own hunt in the years afterwards was punishment for that time.
But the Wolf Queen had two sisters, Leora and Quenta, with equal magical, political, and military might as she. And it was Queen Leora’s armies who kept her sister’s at bay, in defense of the humans. Elf against elf, as many of the humans fled into what is now known as Anthera.
The third Queen would not throw more lives away. She herself entered the battle to face her two warring sisters, and it was she who unleashed the magics that destroyed the three of them, and a good portion of each others armies. In the chaos that followed, the elves scattered to the winds.
It would take men another five hundred years to reach the pinnacle of their rule, all the while beating us into oblivion. But was it not what we had tried to do with them? Yet, I do not feel that any race deserves annihilation because of its leaders. What we needed were better leaders.
What we got was Torin Rishael, soldier in the continuing war against us, and the most powerful wielder of the chaos magic of the Songmasters. He was also a man who would not listen to reason, even when his perceived enemy was willing to negotiate peace for the first time. Any negotiations were rejected from the then High King. He would never allow us to come into any position where we could recover. In the end, we were forced to attack.
It is unknown even to me what lengths the first Council of Shenador went to ensure the Dragons’ loyalties. However, given the other measures that were taken to fight back at the High King, I doubt its benevolence.
What is known, albeit to few, is this; two more races were born at that time. Though they were far from the first to try, the elves of Shenador had in their employ a group who were not abject to go beyond the bounds of nature to seek help for their new campaign. For some time, humans disappeared - not well known humans, for their presence would be missed and raise attention to the elves’ plans. With these kidnapped humans, the elves ran their experimentations. Only the gods know what else they may have created. But once their war began in earnest, the elves released this singular creation in the midst of human territories - the nakiir.
In elven, the name means, literally, two spirits or two souls. As contradictory as that is, for that would mean that even Shenador’s elves acknowledge humans having that divine spark. The nakiir, themselves, were once human, those stolen humans, somehow magically altered and combined with the spirit of the great hunting cats of the world. Their more human form reflects the combination; a nakiir retains the slitted eyes and the tail of a hunting cat, and their arms and calves grow thick with fur.
As if in constant flux with the two spirits, a nakiir has the ability to change their shape from this human form into that of their cat form. As far as my sources know, they retain their cognizance while in this shape, which means they hunt at will, instead of simple necessity.
Their singular prey: humans.
The second race created was the one for which this group are most condemned, for they also altered the elves. From this alteration was born the Shadow elves; stronger, smarter - a race of elves specifically designed to lead their dragons into war. A Shadow elf seems stripped of color, having stark white hair and skin - although not the eyes, which glow a spectrum from amber to violet - and also stripped of any inherent magic known to the elves. Because of this, Shadow elves live for little longer than most humans. Perhaps they were designed thusly on purpose.
These two weapons made of flesh were unleashed upon the humans in combination with the dragons. Although, when the dragons left our side, the nakiir were left to run wild among human lands to continue harassing them.
To this day, nakiir are a problem. The elves who had created them - and the Shadow elves - failed to make them sterile, so they have bred and grown, claiming their territories and defending them from anyone unfortunate to stumble across them.
After the initial fighting, Shenador became home to the ‘pure’ elves. Because of what experiments were done - mostly just to the elves, for who cared what humans were harmed in the process? - the group who had been employed by the elven leaders were condemned to death for doing as they were told. All traces of their experiments were destroyed, though the nakiir are still allowed to roam the mainland (until the elves begin expanding again). Shadow elves are killed and their very existence has been vehemently denied. I suppose we all have our secrets.
The Shadow elves who have survived have taken the name Luna elves, for the pale moon. And they continue to thrive.
My father founded Antares one hundred years after the fall of the High King and his consorts, a haven for humans who were now hunted, elves who continued to feel that war was unnecessary, and Luna elves who have provided an uncanny and invaluable service of keeping Antares safe and secure - in exchange for keeping Shenador oblivious to their continued existence.
We all have our secrets.
Anyhow
History of the same story I've been writing about for the last... no, I'm not saying it... written in two points of view. Two parts of a 5 or 6 parter. Just depends on how much crap I can dish out.
The Elves
- as told by Severan Undril, betrothed of Chandra, Princess of the Elves of Shenador; future King of the Elves
We are the Elves, the most powerful of races, attuned to nature, magic and spirit like none other. Our history stretches back through time before Man made his hobbling way out of his cave, and will continue on long after he has disappeared.
There were many of us, once; perhaps as many as there are humans. But our kind does not replenish our numbers as quickly as those rutting animals do. The recent wars have taken its toll upon us, and our numbers dwindle to a dangerous point. Indeed, there are few of our elders left in the world as the old die and fighting claims our young before they reach that venerable age.
Two races of elves, the gods made. The Sunrise Elves, borne of fire and light. They are masters of weaving spell with precious stone, and delight in wearing their creations as decoration upon their person. The Starlight Elves, mysterious and foreboding as the night; creators of an unspeakable language, only written in ancient runic script. Great metalsmiths use the script to bind power into their work.
There is no quarrel between us; we’d like to believe we are above such petty differences as how physically different each one of our own was born. There are, however, factions that divide us; those of us who would rather live our lives without the fear of another human uprising that would most assuredly finish the job of eradicating our kind - and those who would sleep with the enemy. As disgusting as it may sound, they often take that metaphor entirely too literal, and it has given us these halfbreed mongrels, twisted excuses for souls, blindly grasping at natural ability graced to every elf, but no human could ever even conceive manipulating. Oh, they try, bumbling through phrases they don’t understand and making those absurd gestures. But magic, for us it is a part of what we are. Almost another sense, as your sight or touch would be. Our souls sing with its essence; we dance to its rhythm.
No human could understand that kind of connection. One would have better luck teaching a dog to play the harp.
Nearly a millennia ago, the last elven Queens sought to eradicate the dabbling of humans of the delicate fabric of magic, before they truly damaged something - besides themselves, of course. The Queens - three sisters who ruled where the elven castle Antares now lies - would have put an end to humans for all time. But it’s believed a spy had come into their midst and killed the three sisters with powerful magics. The blow was enough to send the rest of their armies packing, without a leader. Thus heralded the decline of the last Elven Era.
Elven politics dissolved into argumentation; whether we should allow humans to live in peace, as it was proving too costly in lives to support this campaign against them, or continue our assault on their growing number. No one could really decide what to do, and in the end did nothing. Meanwhile, humans grew, and their grasp for power grew. The face of their kingdoms changed many times before they finally struck against us, and sadly, struck us down.
Part of this was due to a new magic arising, and those possessing it were dubbed Songmasters. The elves failed to rid themselves of this threat and humans did exactly what we’d feared - corrupted magic itself. No elf was ever afflicted with this curse. However, the many humans that came into contact with these abominations that man had created of magic went mad with the taste of such power. Many of those died with it, and others took other hapless fools with them to the grave.
In retrospect, perhaps this curse opened their human eyes to our world, and the things couldn’t cope with what they found there. This simply proves that their little minds were never meant to handle magic’s essence. But I digress…
Few of them managed to stave off the madness, or perhaps were more lucid in their madness. These became the human kings who would rule over us and eventually drive us to the brink of extinction. Those of us who were not slaves went into hiding or risked being killed when the kings called their hunt for us, down to the last elven child. But by then, we had already made our plans. And we had found the one weapon that would break even their mightiest Songmaster.
The Dragons.
It is unknown among us just how two elves gained control of such mighty creatures, or what solemn pact they agreed upon. The Dragonmasters are something of a religion; they do not even live among their own kind after they are chosen. (The sole exception would be my stepdaughter - a reversal of fortune, as her kind were the dragons. That mystery of her parenthood is still something my beloved and I argue over.) The rest of their lives lie in secrecy, and after the beginnings of the wars, they refused to help us except in dire need.
Before they withdrew, our dragonriders brought the humans the war they so desired - razing their capitol city to the ground by the first nightfall. The human kings died in the rubble that day, and the human race has yet to recover from that devastating blow.
When Landry* passes beyond these mortal realms and I am crowned ruler of Shenador, I will make certain the humans don’t get a chance to recover.
* current ruler of Shenador, circa 432 E.U.
Histories
- as told by Lord Quentyn, present Lord of Antares
History has seen the Elves for many millennia, rising to great heights, and perhaps falling to even greater lows, before Man stepped out into the sun. And even as old as our race is, our wisdom still rivals our pride at the concept of sharing this world with humans.
It was long ago when Man first began retreating from the elvish armies of Queen Lillith - often called the Wolf Queen, for her hunger over control of this land was as ravenous as her namesake. Man had not only pressed his bounds to hold more territory, but he had also begun dabbling with the otherwise sacred art to the elves - magic. The Wolf Queen took offense, and demanded the humans be hunted to extinction.
Perhaps our own hunt in the years afterwards was punishment for that time.
But the Wolf Queen had two sisters, Leora and Quenta, with equal magical, political, and military might as she. And it was Queen Leora’s armies who kept her sister’s at bay, in defense of the humans. Elf against elf, as many of the humans fled into what is now known as Anthera.
The third Queen would not throw more lives away. She herself entered the battle to face her two warring sisters, and it was she who unleashed the magics that destroyed the three of them, and a good portion of each others armies. In the chaos that followed, the elves scattered to the winds.
It would take men another five hundred years to reach the pinnacle of their rule, all the while beating us into oblivion. But was it not what we had tried to do with them? Yet, I do not feel that any race deserves annihilation because of its leaders. What we needed were better leaders.
What we got was Torin Rishael, soldier in the continuing war against us, and the most powerful wielder of the chaos magic of the Songmasters. He was also a man who would not listen to reason, even when his perceived enemy was willing to negotiate peace for the first time. Any negotiations were rejected from the then High King. He would never allow us to come into any position where we could recover. In the end, we were forced to attack.
It is unknown even to me what lengths the first Council of Shenador went to ensure the Dragons’ loyalties. However, given the other measures that were taken to fight back at the High King, I doubt its benevolence.
What is known, albeit to few, is this; two more races were born at that time. Though they were far from the first to try, the elves of Shenador had in their employ a group who were not abject to go beyond the bounds of nature to seek help for their new campaign. For some time, humans disappeared - not well known humans, for their presence would be missed and raise attention to the elves’ plans. With these kidnapped humans, the elves ran their experimentations. Only the gods know what else they may have created. But once their war began in earnest, the elves released this singular creation in the midst of human territories - the nakiir.
In elven, the name means, literally, two spirits or two souls. As contradictory as that is, for that would mean that even Shenador’s elves acknowledge humans having that divine spark. The nakiir, themselves, were once human, those stolen humans, somehow magically altered and combined with the spirit of the great hunting cats of the world. Their more human form reflects the combination; a nakiir retains the slitted eyes and the tail of a hunting cat, and their arms and calves grow thick with fur.
As if in constant flux with the two spirits, a nakiir has the ability to change their shape from this human form into that of their cat form. As far as my sources know, they retain their cognizance while in this shape, which means they hunt at will, instead of simple necessity.
Their singular prey: humans.
The second race created was the one for which this group are most condemned, for they also altered the elves. From this alteration was born the Shadow elves; stronger, smarter - a race of elves specifically designed to lead their dragons into war. A Shadow elf seems stripped of color, having stark white hair and skin - although not the eyes, which glow a spectrum from amber to violet - and also stripped of any inherent magic known to the elves. Because of this, Shadow elves live for little longer than most humans. Perhaps they were designed thusly on purpose.
These two weapons made of flesh were unleashed upon the humans in combination with the dragons. Although, when the dragons left our side, the nakiir were left to run wild among human lands to continue harassing them.
To this day, nakiir are a problem. The elves who had created them - and the Shadow elves - failed to make them sterile, so they have bred and grown, claiming their territories and defending them from anyone unfortunate to stumble across them.
After the initial fighting, Shenador became home to the ‘pure’ elves. Because of what experiments were done - mostly just to the elves, for who cared what humans were harmed in the process? - the group who had been employed by the elven leaders were condemned to death for doing as they were told. All traces of their experiments were destroyed, though the nakiir are still allowed to roam the mainland (until the elves begin expanding again). Shadow elves are killed and their very existence has been vehemently denied. I suppose we all have our secrets.
The Shadow elves who have survived have taken the name Luna elves, for the pale moon. And they continue to thrive.
My father founded Antares one hundred years after the fall of the High King and his consorts, a haven for humans who were now hunted, elves who continued to feel that war was unnecessary, and Luna elves who have provided an uncanny and invaluable service of keeping Antares safe and secure - in exchange for keeping Shenador oblivious to their continued existence.
We all have our secrets.