Shadowgate Forum Index Shadowgate
You can't fudge your dice rolls here...
 FAQFAQ   SearchSearch   MemberlistMemberlist   UsergroupsUsergroups   RegisterRegister 
 ProfileProfile   Log in to check your private messagesLog in to check your private messages   Log inLog in 

History of the feral elf

Post new topic   Reply to topic    Shadowgate Forum Index -> Character stories
View previous topic :: View next topic  
Author Message

PostPosted: Wed Nov 12, 2014 10:46 pm    Post subject: History of the feral elf Reply with quote

Part I
The beginning
NOTE: 'Hekistoph' is this elven clan's name for Mielikki. They see her as elements of the animal/hunter domain of Malar.

Deep in the heart of an ancient forest, countless creatures hid. Fear, deep and primal, clung to their hearts as they cowered in their dens or tangled masses of brush, awaiting the swift death that sought them out. They all knew of the shapeshifters who stalked this wood, cutting down whatever they saw as worthy prey. Though the hunters targeted only the largest and deadliest of beasts, it was not uncommon for them to take the lives of the small and harmless to quench their hunger. Depending on the appetites of the predators...nothing was safe. And so they hid, from the smallest of mice to the most fearsome bear or jungle cat, hoping that the terrors of the night would not find them.
Standing on the edge of a cliff hundreds of feet above the forest, Arvesohln, one of Sahkenotiaar clan’s most endowed hunters, stared into the depths below the tree line. He longed to be down there stalking the woods in search of dangerous game, but he could not bring himself to move. His mind was with his mate, his dear Sieklíras, and the unborn child she carried. Her time would be tonight; the entire village knew it. She would deliver before the moon left the sky. Arvesohln worried for her, fearing the possibilities at hand. What if she didn’t survive the event? What if the child didn’t make it? What if something were wrong with the child; some curse or blight to punish one of them for a long-forgotten sin?
A faint gust of wind blew across the cliff face, rustling Arvesohln’s hair. He absently reached up to brush his long, silky black hair back, shifting it to reveal the telltale tapered ears of an elf. His fingers lingered on the ear, a reminder of his clan’s ancient history. Without meaning to, his thoughts drifted to the past.

Centuries ago, they had left the realms shared by other elven races; the genial Silver Ones who brought joy wherever they went, the artisan craft of the Green elves…and the arrogant disdain of the Golden elves. It was them who had looked down on Sahkenotiaar’s customs in the beginning, seeing evil where it did not exist. They had insulted the clan’s ancient traditions of hunting and bloodshed, challenging the very premise of killing not in self-defense, and branding it as an abomination. The sun elves like to think that Sahkenotiaar had been exiled from their home realm, and claimed as much to the migrating clan as soon as they announced their intentions to leave. In truth, the people of Sahkenotiaar had left to continue their way of life and avoid a blood war that would have inevitably been ignited by the proud Golden elves.
But that was not the worst of their history. After many years of slow travel, they had found a suitable place to settle; the cliff where Arvesohln now stood was in fact where the matriarch of that time had made the decision to stay here. Several decades of peace followed, when the hunters could continue their traditions in peace; perfecting the art of shapeshifting, making themselves more elite predators little by little. Six and forty years after they had made their home here, a tribe of orcs had marched on their territory, claiming the land as their own. The elves had sought to drive the invaders away without needless bloodshed, but the beasts of the Ghavlor tribe persisted, and made a point of ambushing and killing three Sahkenotiaar hunters. The elves were furious at this, and retaliated with the slaughter of dozens of orcish soldiers. A brutal war ensued, resulting in numerous deaths on both sides, but a heavier toll on the orcs. Despite this, they would not relent. Their numbers were too vast.
After years of continuous battle, the elves had had enough. Late into the night of a full moon, the elders and matriarch gathered to undergo an ancient ritual, calling upon the most powerful of druidic magic.
The result was a deafening roar that carried on the air for miles, as each of the elves slowly changed their bodies, taking on the form of the most infamous beasts that had ever existed.
They had become dragons.
The final battle took place at the orcs’ camp at the foot of a mountain, as the hunters in dragon form devastated the warlords’ numbers in minutes. Overwhelmed and reduced to a handful of fighters, the orcs fled into a tunnel in the mountainside. Determined that this would never happen again, the elves brought the side of the mountain down on them, forever sealing the monsters in the bowels of the earth. Only two hunters had been lost that night, not quick enough to take to the air after causing the landslide. Since that night, there had been peace.

A soft sound behind Arvesohln pulled him back to the present. He turned to find Nethilia, a young apprentice to the village healer, standing against the rock face and smiling.
His heart leapt, knowing the news that she brought. “Tell me,” he said softly.
She nodded, eyes twinkling with bliss. “You have a daughter.”
A wolf that had moments before been Arvesohln sprinted past the girl, racing back toward the village. Minutes later, his elven body burst through the entrance of his home.
Sieklíras was lying on their woven bed mat holding a small bundle, tears of joy and exhaustion in her eyes. Arvesohln knelt next to her, mouth slightly agape with speechless elation. He licked his lips dryly, holding his shaking hands out to her.
She stroked the infant’s brow before handing her to Arvesohln, then immediately fell asleep. Concern furrowed Arvesohln’s brow as he started at his prone mate, holding the babe to his chest.
“Do not worry about her,” an ashen-haired midwife consoled him. “She is worn, but she will live on. What she needs is rest.”
He knew she spoke the truth, but was hesitant to turn away from the sleeping form. Only after several long moments did he, and looked down at his child for the first time.
She would grow to be a strong hunter; he could feel that her mind was already attuned to the power of the wilds. He inspected her briefly, looking over every part of her that was visible outside of the blanket. Claws were short, but sharp; limbs, fully developed and devoid of abnormalities. But the ears...
Arvesohln frowned and looked over her skull. The infant’s ears were longer than normal, and curled slightly before their points, giving them the appearance of canine or felid ears. Horns, even. Never before had he seen or heard of this. Was it a sign?
He glanced over the child’s ears once more, taking in their every detail. Yes, they were far more animalistic than even the oldest and most attuned of the clan’s hunters. This must have been a manifestation of Hekistoph’s blessing over the child. He gave a silent prayer of thanks, vowing that this girl would become the most fearsome natural predator to walk the lands.
Arvesohln sighed, smiling, and stroked his daughter’s cheek.
I have a child...
Back to top

PostPosted: Sun Dec 21, 2014 2:11 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Forgive the delay of more posts here; my flashdrive has been corrupted or broken somehow; will have to rewrite it all from scratch.
Back to top
Display posts from previous:   
Post new topic   Reply to topic    Shadowgate Forum Index -> Character stories All times are GMT
Page 1 of 1

Jump to:  
You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot vote in polls in this forum

Powered by phpBB © phpBB Group. Hosted by