History of the Elder Races
The History of the Elder Races
To his highness, the duke of Umberland:
Your highness, in my travels, I came upon a fragment of a book describing the origin of the elder races. Knowing your great interest in the events of history, I have spared no effort in translating its contents for your pleasure and edification. I hope that you may enjoy the unique perspective on these events accorded by the identity of the fragment’s author. I ask only that if my humble work meets with your approval, I might have the pleasure of knowing that I am well regarded by such an august personage.
-Goffroy of Monham
When the world was young, the gods walked its surface alone, leaping from mountain peak to peak, dashing through the virgin woodlands, and engaging in sporting contests with each other. Each god possessed a holding of land that stretched from one horizon to the other, and whose climate and wildlife reflected the tastes of the god. All was good, right, and pleasant. After millennia, however, even the gods with their immortal patience began to weary of this life, for the world changed but little, and the other gods not at all. Each time they walked their lands, they saw nothing they had not seen a thousand times before, and each time they met, they said nothing that they had not said a thousand times before.
Soon, the gods all assembled before the throne of their king and father, addressing him “O king, this world is beautiful and perfect, but there is nothing new under the sun. How can we end this monotony and once more take joy in life?”
The all-father had pondered this much, and he responded “This weighs also upon my mind. I have deliberated long about it, and concluded that we may choose to give life to a race of lesser beings. They will live, and give birth, and die, so that new beings will always walk upon the earth. They will change far more rapidly than we, and they will provide us never-ending delight as we watch them go about their lives, building cities and realms. They will revere us as their fathers, and will bring us offerings of songs and beautiful objects for us to adorn ourselves.”
When the king’s voice had fallen silent, the other gods spoke among themselves, praising the idea and resolving to begin the creation at once.
Their speech was cut short as the king raised his hand once more. “But,” he said “I have foreseen this also. If we give life to races of lesser beings as our children, it will come to pass that one day we must depart this world, which we love, and cede it wholly to them.”
Although the gods were troubled by this pronouncement, they saw no other choice, and they began to discuss how best to create these new beings. Each god had his own ideas of how the creatures would best be able to entertain him, some desiring them to possess pure voices for songs of praise, some wanting skillful hands and minds to fashion beautiful items, some wishing for skill in battle or athletics to compete in sporting events and gladiatorial combats. None of the gods could agree amongst themselves as to the best form for the new race, and the discussion soon spawned heated words, and very nearly came to blows.
Before this could happen, however, the king of gods, who had stayed aloof from the argument, spoke again, saying “This is no cause for strife. We shall create a race that embodies all that you all desire. Each of you shall have the children that you wish. The race shall be one whole, but composed of parts, and each part will receive different gifts from us, their fathers.”
With the conflict resolved, the gods quickly agreed on the shapes that the race would take, and began to work to create them, each in their own way. Some carved bodies for their children from stone or wood, others from clay or water, others from rare metals and every other material at hand. They made many beautiful carvings, and attempted to bring them to life with their breath and with words of power, but all remained still and lifeless. At this, the gods wrung their hands and despaired, for they could not give life to their children.
The all-father then spoke once again; chiding the other gods “These efforts of yours shall always fail. You cannot give life to children made from these crude materials. Children must stem from the flesh of their parents.” So saying, he grasped his mighty sword, raised it high, and brought it down once more, severing his left hand entirely. Despite the pain, he raised the sword again and again, severing each finger from the hand, saying “Use these as your materials as you carve the bodies, and soon shall our children enter into the world we have prepared for them.” With this, he retired, for he was sorely fatigued and pained by his wound.
The goddess of craft took up the index finger, full of the skill and ability of the king, who had formed the world and many great and beautiful things within it. She was enamored by things of beauty, and carved the flesh and bone into Maliara, a woman possessed of such skill that she created buildings, jewelry, clothing, and all else that can be crafted, all light as spun silk, sturdy as the bones of the earth, and of such surpassing beauty that their equal has never again been seen.
Quickly snatching up the largest, middle, finger, the god of strength fashioned a man who was named Garodan, nearly eight feet tall, well-muscled and hardy, for the god loved to see feats of strength and athleticism performed. Garodan performed many great deeds, scaling the tallest mountains and swimming to the depths of the sea. When the time came to build a city, Garodan wrestled a river out of its bed to bring a water supply to it, and pushed a mountain to the site to provide building stone.
The third finger, still bearing a ring which had been set with the light of a star, was picked up by the goddess of music and beauty, who formed it into a radiantly handsome man who bore the name of Argentrell. Argentrell was gifted with magnificent musical ability and a voice so pure and smooth that as he sang, thousands of wild beasts would gather around him to hear. Hundreds of musical instruments had their birth as Argentrell thought of a beautiful sound that he would like to use, and described it to Maliara, leaving her to find a way to create it.
Angered and jealous that all of the larger fingers had been already taken, the god of war snatched up the last and smallest finger, shaping it into a woman, small and light, but agile as the wind. Her name was Kuvasha, and her skill in arms was unparalleled. She could use any weapon as easily as a part of her body, and she fought with lightning speed and mobility, slashing her foes with a thousand cuts before they could react. She took great pride in all she did, seeking out the most dangerous creatures in the world and combating them, dedicating each kill to the god of war.
Finally, the goddess of wisdom saw what had been wrought by the others; each god making what would please and amuse them most. She saw that the personalities of their children were diverse and fractious, and would lead to conflict and a lack of unity. She picked up the thumb, which sits apart from the other fingers, guiding and directing them to grasp objects between them, and formed a woman bearing the perception to see the world as it is, the wisdom to know the right course, and the leadership to convince others to follow it. She bore the name Wamura, and she guided the others in all of their actions. Under her rule, the pronouncement of the king did indeed come true, for the disparate parts became a complete and whole race.
When all of the other gods had taken their children forth into the outer world, the goddess of prophecy, who had but little status in the divine hierarchy, was left alone in the great hall. Alone, she stepped forward and gathered up the fingerless palm that lay on the tile before the throne; for she foresaw that it would be needed, though she knew not for what.
Here follows a span of 23 pages describing the great deeds accomplished by each of the 5 progenitors during their lifetimes. Because of its great length, I have omitted it here, summarizing a few of the feats in the passages above. If you would like me to translate the section in full, I am, as always, your servant.
These five were the progenitors of the race that would come to be known as the elves. They each had a life spanning millennia before their time came, and a few even now say that they never died, but went into hiding, to return when the world had need of them. Each had children beyond number, and soon the race expanded greatly, filling the land with their graceful structures and the air with the sound of their voices. No matter how the descendants of the progenitors intermingled, each child born bore the mark and traits of one of his parents, hearkening back to one of the progenitors in his talents.
The gods saw this, and were well pleased, for their children did not forget to bestow praise upon their sires, each in their own way. Those with the skills of Maliara made beautiful temples, jewelry, and all other objects, all for the glory of the gods. They also discovered the art of magic, seeing it as the supreme form of skillfulness in craft. Those who resembled the mighty Garodan competed in great athletic contests, races, and wrestling matches, dedicating their victory to their makers. The descendants of Argentrell composed hymns and ballads honoring the gods, and told stories so that knowledge would never be forgotten. The lithe spirit-heirs of Kuvasha contended with each other in duels, their lightning-fast movement and swordplay turning the gladiatorial matches almost into a form of dance, which they performed to entertain their creators. The elven respect for life was such that these combats only resulted in serious injury or death in the case of great accidents. Those descended from Wamura, always the least numerous, guided the others in their daily life, and also led them in prayers. Each of these bloodlines was known by the ancient elven word for the finger from which they had been formed, and they paid proper homage to their progenitor.
The ages that followed were a time of peace and prosperity for both the elves and the gods. The elves rapidly spread all across the world, building a civilization that has never seen its equal in size, glory, or justice. All spheres of interest and knowledge were tapped by them, and many beautiful and wondrous articles were created by them, of which but few have passed down the ages unharmed. The gods lived a joyful existence among their children, speaking with them, feasting with them, blessing and attending their festivals.
Alas, all that is good must one day end. The pride of the elves grew greater and greater with their works, but their devotion and gratitude to the gods grew less and less. More and more of the songs, contests, and items created were done for their own glory, not that of the gods. Soon, the rulers of the elves began to call themselves king or queen, exalting themselves and not displaying proper humility and respect for the king of gods. The gods were excluded from the lives of their children, becoming more distant and no longer living among them. In their insatiable desire to learn all that could be learned, and to expand the boundaries of their craft, the power of the elven mages escaped their control, and formed a rift to the nether planes. Demons and devils began to pour through, ravaging the fair land and killing all who stood in their path.
The elves reacted to this threat with panic and division. The descendants of Maliara were blamed by the others for their part in opening the rift. Those of Kuvasha’s bloodline, most of whom had only known the ritualized, dance-like duels which involved no real risk, feared to imperil their lives in a full-scale war, for which they were charged with cowardice. Those of Garodan, although they possessed great strength and fortitude, had never yet trained with weapons, preferring to race and wrestle, and thus they were unprepared to defend themselves. The heirs of Argentrell were now derided by the others, who had always praised their gifts, as weak and passive. The few descendants of Wamura who counseled unity and swift reaction were drowned out in the rancorous argumentation and strife, each part of the race blaming the others for the calamity.
Seeing that the elves were fractious, divided, and ineffectual, and that the world would soon be overrun without his action, the king of gods strode forth to meet the fiends and stem the tide, his mighty sword in hand as he gathered all the other gods to his side. He sent a missive to Solethas, the king of the elves, saying “We go forth to do battle with a mighty foe to protect the world for thy sake. I ask that all elves who would show their loyalty to their fathers come to fight at our side.” The message was distributed, but only few came to answer the call. The elves had never faced a foe more dangerous than occasional monsters on the outskirts of their civilization, for they had always been united, and no other races of beings were yet in the world. They had never known war, and feared it greatly. They would show their loyalty with praises and offerings, but not with their lives. The battle raged for months, now one side seeming the stronger, now the other. As more and more fiends passed through the rift, the tide gradually turned against the forces of the gods, and the all-father sent another message, saying “We are sorely pressed in this war which we have undertaken for thy sake. I bid all elves rally to my side to remedy your part in unleashing this plague upon the world.” Solethas encouraged his subjects to fight with his words, but his example said otherwise, for he moved his court as far away from the battle as he could.
Again, only a small portion of the elves arrived to take part in the battle, all others fled far away from the rampaging hordes. The forces of the gods were slowly pushed back and back, until they defended only the great hall, home of the gods. The king once more sent to the elves, saying “This once-fair world is greatly spoiled, but there is yet hope. I command every elf able to hold a blade, by the allegiance that is due me, for thy creation out of my flesh and bone, to appear before me and join my ranks.” Solethas responded in words to the command, promising all the forces he could muster. However, he feared too much for his own safety, spent many months gathering forces before marching, and arrived far too late. Yet again, only a trickle of the elves came of their own accord to bolster the king’s forces, so that only a tenth part of the elven population took part in the war.
With so few, the all-father despaired of eradicating the hordes or driving them back through the portal whence they came, as he had hoped to do. Instead, he conceived a plan to create mighty artifacts known as prison-stones, capable of binding any creature within them, and he descended to the forges in the cellars of the great hall to create the stones, directing the others not to disturb him. The gods and the elves fought valiantly defending the great hall for seven days and seven nights as the king of gods labored, but each day they lost more and more ground against the hordes until they defended only the entrance to the cellars.
All of the defenders were fatigued beyond measure, but they held their ground bravely until they saw such a swarm of fiends pour through the gates that they knew they would be overrun. Knowing that the situation was dire, and the need would never be greater, the goddess of prophecy knew that the moment she had foreseen had finally come. She rose from the pallet on which she had been lying, injured, and strode to the base of the throne, which contained mighty magics. She sustained many blows from the attackers as she walked through their ranks, but seemed heedless to her grievous wounds. Calling upon all of her will and desperation, she drew forth the fingerless palm of the all-father, which she had preserved for millennia, and raised it high above her. Surrounded by twisted and horrible creatures that rent her flesh, she channeled all of her divine essence into the palm as she squeezed it between her hands high over her head. As she squeezed, drops of blood flew forth from the palm in all directions, and as each drop struck the ground, it instantaneously grew into a strong, hardy person. These blood-born people were naked and did not know who, or even what they were, but they felt an affinity and bond to the goddess and instantly snatched up whatever was at hand and fell upon the demonic beasts tearing at her body. Alas, they were too late, for even as the last drop was wrung from the palm and the blood-born struck down the last of the fiends surrounding the goddess, she fell to the floor, her body mangled almost beyond recognition by the wounds she had sustained. Filled with righteous zeal, the blood-born, along with the elves and gods, fell upon their attackers in a wave, tearing them apart and forcing them back, until the entirety of the great hall was theirs once again.
For another seven days and seven nights, the forces of the gods, with much help from the hardy warriors of this new race, which would come to be called the dwarves, held the diabolic hordes at bay. At last, the all-father emerged from the cellars, bearing the prison-stones that he had forged. Through a series of daring raids, in which many courageous dwarves, elves, and gods met their doom, the greatest and most powerful of the fiends were trapped and imprisoned. Without their leaders and champions, the forces of hell wavered, and the battle turned against them. Soon, all were destroyed, scattered, or forced back through the portal. The portal itself was sealed with mighty magics. Though evil could still seep through it in trickles, it would never again pour through as a torrent.
The above account of the war with the fiends is much abbreviated. In the original, it occupies 31 pages, including several illustrations of pivotal scenes, though my poor artistic skill is far too humble to allow for their reproduction. Most of the text offers a detailed description of each of the battles, and names many heroes of the elven and dwarven races, describing the great deeds done by each. Because of its long and somewhat repetitive nature, I have greatly condensed it, though again, if you would like to read the full text, I would be only too happy to oblige.
Despite this victory, the heart of the king was heavy, for he knew that the greatest fiends could now never be banished from the world he loved, for the magic of the prison-stones would dissolve if taken from the world. Even then, he could sense the fiends testing their bonds, looking for a way to escape the stones, and knew that they could not be held thus forever. This worried him, but those dwarves who had fought most valiantly in the war, slaying foes by the hundreds, stepped forward, for they bore an undying hatred for all of demonkind in their breast for the death of the goddess who had formed them.
These peerless warriors volunteered to enter the stones to do eternal battle with the fiends and prevent them from finding an escape, for the magic of the stone would not allow either one of them to die in their combat. They would remain eternally in the prison-stones, but the fiends’ malignant will would seep through, corrupting those around them. Without vigilant guardians, the prison might even be opened, allowing them freedom to work their evil once again. These champions were exalted for their sacrifice as the greatest heroes of the newborn dwarven race. All other dwarves took a solemn oath to take the prison-stones to the far corners of the earth, where they would build the greatest fortresses the world had ever known, secure both from the inside and out, so that the fiends would remain imprisoned forever.
Although it pained the king of gods to do so, he was forced to pronounce justice on those children who had turned away from him. He thought long and hard to find a just punishment that fit the crime, and decided in his infinite wisdom that the elves too must experience the torment of betrayal by their children. He assembled all the faithless elves, led by the cowardly king Solethas, before his throne, and uttered the following edict, which has become known as the “Curse of the All-father”:
“As ye have denied me what is my due
So too are thy children sundered from you.”
None of those assembled knew the meaning of the curse, for they felt no ill effect from it. They returned to their homes and lives, but soon found the meaning becoming clear. Reports began to abound of elves giving birth to ugly, misshapen creatures--crude, violent, and aggressive. There was much weeping in the elven cities, as the joy of new mothers turned to despair. Only a tenth part, the same amount as the elves who obeyed the call to arms, of the children born to the elves now resembled their parents. All of the rest were creatures of this new type, which were given the name of “orc”, after the strongest oath in the elven language.
To those elves who had fought in the battles, the king presented an option, saying “You have served me loyally and well, and are my true children. I give you now a choice. You may return to your brethren and share in their fate, or remain with me and be exalted to become my trusted servitors and those of my fellow gods.” Almost none of the elves chose to return to their society, for they were disgusted by the cowardice shown by their kin. Those who stayed were rewarded as the king had promised, bathed in holy light and transformed, becoming the different types of celestials that act as servants to the gods.
The once-great elven civilization degenerated in the aftermath of the war. The population declined, as more and more women couldn’t bear to go through the hardships of pregnancy only to birth a monster. The elven respect for life forbade them from killing the infant orcs they gave birth to, but those that remained in elven society soon became a destructive force, constantly fighting both elves and each other, destroying property, and murdering the young, old, and sick whenever left unwatched. They shared none of the elven love for beauty and peace, wanting only to take what they could for themselves, and destroy all else. Soon, the custom arose of taking each orc child on its seventh birthday to the borders of the elven lands, and abandoning it there. This gave some reprieve, but soon vicious tribes of orcs formed along the border areas, raiding into elven territory, killing and plundering wherever they could. Thus were the elves forced to take up arms and defend themselves against the aggressors. This was all as the all-father had planned, for he wished his children to be forced to defend themselves and to know war, so they would never again be craven when called on to fight.
Solethas, having brought ruination upon his people by his rule, was filled with overwhelming remorse, and abdicated the throne, retiring into the wilderness as a hermit to pray to the gods for mercy upon his people. For the rest of his days, he ate only berries and lizards, wore only a hair shirt, and spent his days in supplication to the gods. In his absence, the elven people abolished the kingship altogether, and in its stead instituted a council, wherein the foremost citizen chosen from each bloodline had an equal voice. Alas, the elves remained proud, and did not change their ways. Rather than displaying humility, learning from their mistakes, and humbly praying to the all-father to ask for release from his justly deserved punishment, they turned their backs on him, blaming him, rather than themselves, for all their woes. Soon, the worship of the gods was all but abandoned in elven society, and new religions sprang up everywhere. Ancestor-worship, Elementalism, and Animism were all conceived during this time by elves turning away from the gods. Factions devoted to each of these, as well as other religions, fought among themselves for control of society, fracturing it further and contributing to its downfall. Furthermore, the orcs continued to strike at their cities. While the elves soon became accomplished warriors, they were always outnumbered by the orcs, leading to an ongoing war that fostered an eternal hatred between the two races. Many elven communities at this time abandoned their principles in the face of the death of too many of their kin at orcish hands, simply slaying all orc children born to them, but the orc warbands were already established. Most dangerous, however, were the few elves born into the orc tribes and raised to share their dark values, for the curse worked both ways. These elves could pass the borders without being recognized as a threat, reporting to their orcish masters when and where to strike. Soon, all elven borders were tightly sealed, and their distrust and hatred for all outsiders grew and grew. Finally, there was almost no communication from one elven enclave to the next, and each went about their own business, allowing no contact with the outside world.
In contrast to the degeneration of the elven civilization, the newborn race of dwarves grew and thrived. True to their vows, they divided themselves into tribes and carried the prison-stones binding the fiends and their greatest heroes to the far corners of the earth, so that even should the fiends ever escape their prisons, they would never reunite. There, they dug deep into the earth, building fortresses with impenetrable walls of stone so that nothing could get in or out without passing innumerable gates and layers of defenses. They called these fortresses Holdfasts, each one taking its name from the dwarven champion imprisoned within the stone. There, they spent their days training for war, honing their skill at arms and hatred of fiends, so that they would be ready when called on to fight. They always retained their love for the gods, but honored the goddess of prophecy above all others, for she had given her life in their creation. They held a day of mourning each year on the anniversary of her death, filling their stony homes with echoing dirges. Because she had poured her divine essence into the race of dwarves, some few of them manifested that essence as the gift of foresight. These rare seers were honored above all others for their special link with the mother of their race.
Although it only rarely came to armed conflict, there was no love lost between the races of elves and dwarves. Dwarves rightly saw elves as weaklings and cowards, and blamed their refusal to fight against the fiends for the death of the goddess of prophecy, never forgiving them for this. Elves saw dwarves as late-coming usurpers, taking the position of honor with the gods that had been theirs as the firstborn. They also saw them as crude and unrefined, and could not recognize their gifts of steadfastness, hardiness, and unwavering piety. This animosity continued to grow, and the two races had as little to do with each other as they could.
So it came to pass, as the years after the war turned to decades, then centuries, that the elven civilization gradually fractured and deteriorated, the dwarves prospered and remained vigilant against their charges, and an age of the world came to an end.
I have recorded all this because the end of my accursed days at long last approaches. Though I have prayed to the gods to forgive my people for their and my sin, and have beseeched my kin to turn humbly once more to the gods, my pleas have fallen upon deaf ears. Thus, I end my life in shame and despair. I hope and pray that those who come to inhabit the earth in the times to come will read this account and learn from the mistakes of the elves so that they do not repeat them and suffer the same fate. Honor the gods always and with your whole heart, and never allow yourself to become prideful, as the elves did, and are still. Here I, Solethas, last king of the elves, end my tale.
, but I hope the background material is at least a somewhat interesting read. I'll change the thread title as soon as an actual story installment is written.
