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Chapter I | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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We started out as a simple race. Our technologies were simple, our lives were simple, and our uses of magic were simple. Everything in our lives revolved around the simplicity of the village. One family specialized in creating weapons, one family created tools, one family hunted, one family farmed, and one family ruled. I tell you this, nothing got this simple. We were only a speck in the dust compared to what we were destined to become. Wenalray othfae El'th'norann -----INTRODUCTION----- "El'th'norann. Ussta delmah." "El'th'norann. My home." Perhaps to some those words have little meaning, if any. They're simply Elvish words that were long spoken and were destined to be forgotten. However, there is still only a single soul that speaks those words. His name is Zuka Telemnar Zamamee. His life was long filled with nothing but hatred and despair for 700 years. This is his story. -----722 Years Ago----- A golden sun rose on a cloudless morning in the southern forests of Ran'galkaad. Somewhere deep in the forest was a massive High Elven city of Syl'arboreth. Merchants set about opening their shops, the blacksmiths working day in and day out forging weapons, the children still sleeping and their parents awakening to mill about on their everyday task. Other elves, such as Sylvan elves and drows, allied to Syl'arboreth from nearby towns and cities came in and mingled with the locals. You might call this a haven, and in a sense, it was. Other races of elves living in harmony, dwarves from the Ironforge mountains in the west often visiting. It was a rare occasion, but it was known to happen. However, every utopia had its flaws, and Syl'arboreth was no exception. Eight years ago, the demons from Ail'ag'orlik, the northern side of the known realm, would launch massive attacks. One by one, Elven city after another would fall. Hundreds, sometimes thousands, of valiant warriors fell defending the homes they loved. A large, spiraling network of forty-three Elven cities now dwindled to nine. Morale was at an all time low, and annihilation seemed imminent. But, out of the losses, there were few isolated victories. Naba'galisk was held because the demons' supply lines were cut off. Halkashiv was a success because the defenders outnumbered them three to one, but even then two-thirds of the army was lost. Ruun’aald was another victory because of the strategic action of destroying the only bridge over the river to slow enemy advancements enough for archers to snipe out the enemies. Regardless for every minor victory, there were at least seven or eight major defeats. While the exact cause of the genocidal campaign remained unknown since the demons had stayed on their side of the realm for over 300,000 years, the scholars speculated that it was caused by the creation of a portal. A High Elf archmage named Valandil Eluch had decided to attempt the creation of a portal between El'th'norann and a place known as Dragon Court in hopes of expanding the Elvish empire. Eluch and five other wizards dedicated three days to the completion of the portal and were satisfied with the results. Nearly forty miles away, Akanzel, Pit Lord of the demons, sensed the disturbance of the fabrics of reality. Fearing the elves he had hated so much would find a way to overthrow him and take his lands, he launched an attack on the city. Over fourteen thousand innocent lives died because of the reckless use of magic by Eluch. Thus, the war had begun. -----CHAPTER ONE: AWAKENING OF THE DRAGON----- Zuka, sitting on the edge of his bed, inhaled the fresh morning air, his windows wide open and his ice-blue eyes matched the western sky. The air pushed back his jet-black shoulder length hair, whispering words into his ears as it passed through each strand. Normally, most High Elves would be out and about on their tasks, but he preferred to linger. He smiled as the familiar noise of the city coming back to life began to rise in a slow crescendo. Bringing his smile down towards his girlfriend, Itarildë Calaelen, he watched her breathe lightly. Her long brown hair flowed well past her shoulders, barely longer than Zuka’s. Itarildë’s eyes were an emerald green and were symbolized as someone that was going to have an impact on the future of El’th’norann. Zuka knew very well that even though she was asleep, the sorceress was very acumen and could easily feel the slightest movement, such as him raising his hands to touch her face. This he already knew, especially since he had learned firsthand that lightning magic hurts, particularly whenever the victim was soaked from a storm. He chuckled at the thought of it. Zuka’s room was rather large for an Elvish bedroom. The walls were lined with scores of books about combat tactics, sword maneuvers, proper ways to take care of bows, and Zuka’s elvish sword, Gar’latheria and elf bow, Hach’asi. There was even an old book written 500,000 years ago by the very first generation of elves. This book, Wenalray othfae El'th'norann, or War of El'th'norann, was one of the last remaining copies from the First Great War. His father had gotten given it to him since he could first read. Since there were so few of these books remaining, it obviously meant they were rich, or at least close to it. Zuka’s father, Findecáno Telemnar, was a scribe and scholar at the Syl’arboreth’s Grand Archives, the only building to survive from the First Great War. His mother, Alatáriël Cúthalion Telemnar, was an artisan and ring maker, a very valued position for Syl’arboreth. Zuka had practically memorized the book itself. 800,000 years ago, the first elves lived in a single realm named Arthania. For 300,000 years, the elves began to create portals and travel between realms, and slowly their empire stretched to an immense size. When they discovered El'th'norann, the portals awakened Akanzel. The demon and undead army aroused and began to attack them. Strangely, Akanzel wasn’t concerned about taking over natural resources or land, but was instead more interested in the portals themselves. After 200 years of fighting, all but a few realms had been destroyed or lost. Finally, due to overuse, the portal between El'th'norann and the other realms collapsed. Fortunately for the elves, the bulk of the demon force was located on El'th'norann and thus they couldn’t wipe out the rest of the civilization. Only a handful of elves on El'th'norann lived, and they later became the authors of Wenalray othfae El'th'norann. Amongst the survivors was the Syl’arboreth’s Grand Archives, the only building to survive. Realizing he had backtracked, Zuka glanced at Itarildë as she let out a small groan, and shifted to face him. The sorceress gave a small grin towards her headstrong boyfriend, clearly an indication she was pleased he hadn’t left her while she had fallen asleep. “My love, you waited for me,” Itarildë says, her soft voice as soothing as a breeze in the autumn’s leaves. So soothing, in fact, it caused a chill to run down Zuka’s spine every time he heard her speak. “Yes, that I have done. Tell me, what did you dream of?” At this the sorceress would ponder, as if remembering what had gone on inside her subconscious. After a moment she spoke. “I dreamed of unicorns. Unicorns and faeries and dragons.” Zuka simply nodded as details about the mystical creatures came back into his head. He heard much about them from Calaelen, especially whenever it was her dreams she talked about. This is why he wasn’t very shocked to hear about them. Suddenly, a shout erupted in the marketplace. Following it were the sounds of confusion and paranoia. Zuka immediately got up and bolted towards the window. With a single glance at the crowds, he understood what was going on. “Lets go, the king has returned.” With that, the couple ran out of the house and towards the castle. -----Two hours later----- Standing in the crowds outside of the king’s throne room, a huge 300-foot tall structure, Zuka and Itarildë held hands and held their breaths as the king, Huor Sáralondë, slowly strolled out onto the balcony followed by seven archers and seven paladins. He raised his right hand, instantly silencing the impatient crowds. His voice easily pierced through the distance between himself and the crowds and echoing off of the nearby buildings. “My fellow Elves and Dwarves from far and near in El’th’norann, I bring with me the gravest of all news. As some of you may have already heard, Tom’balk’auh and Pok’uagh have both fallen before the might of Akanzel’s army. This brings the number of cities that we have down to nine.” Panic, confusion, paranoia, and fear sweeps through the crowd like wild fire. The king raises his hand again after several moments, restoring the peace. “Now, as I was saying, we only have nine cities left. Within the next few days, thousands of refugees and defeated warriors will be coming here from the two places. I want you all to prepare to embrace them with kind hearts and open doors. Make all arrangements necessary to sustain them.” Zuka gave a furtive look at Itarildë, but the sorceress kept a stern eye on the king. Zuka diverted his eyes back to him as well. “As of right now, all men over the age of 14 will be drafted immediately into our army. We simply do not have the large fighting force that we once had before this war. That is all.” The king turned and walked back into his throne room, disappearing from view almost instantly. Almost instantaneously, as if by queue, two hundred soldiers marched out of the castle and into the crowds, finding those over 14 years old and taking them with them. With a look of despair on his face, Zuka faced his girlfriend and gave her a long kiss, lamenting he had to fight at last. A soldier came from behind and placed his armored left hand on Zuka's shoulder. Zuka gave his love one last look, and walked away with the soldier and into a new destiny. |
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Zuka Telemnar Zamamee, elvish necromancer | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Navigation | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Chapter II | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
About me | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Name: | Justin | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Email: | zukazamamee@yahoo.com | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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