The Autobiography of Farren Orchaedia

[Hush 9]

To many, Arcas was a world like any other. A world filled with power-hungry Humans, barbaric Orcs, and magical Elves. But to me, it was more than a world, it was my home. And yes, there was fighting, I lost many who were close to me be they family or friends. I made many mistakes and hurt so many people. I even found myself close to death several times. But despite all of this hatred and chaos, my story has yet to end.

 

  To start off simply I will tell you who I am as well as the so ons and so forths. My name was Aphellion Pádraig, a dark elf born into Helena and later raised almost half a world away in a forest known as Siramenor. The princedom of Elveness and home to the Mali’ame of Arcas. I arrived in this forest when I was 23, still young enough for any elf to call me a child. I told those who listened how I came of this glade and word spread till everyone in the village knew of my story.
 

  For starters, I told them how I was forced to flee the monolithic city in order to escape my father. A money-hungry man whose soul wished for nothing more than power and friends in high places. This was how I came to know the royal family. Not personally, for obvious reasons, but at least came to know the more in depth history. My father eventually bought my mother and added her to his collection of exotic items before I was born. A pure Mali’ker with somehow a full human father and a dark elven mother. 

 

  Later on, when I was around eight years old my mother took me to visit her kin in the mountains. A people known as the Orchanii. Normal folk who studied and worshiped the many stars in the sky. My mother managed to teach me most everything of this practice which is the same reason I have kept my good looks and sharp wits. This is also the reason I knew so much when I traveled under the cover of night where the stars became my wayfinder and led me across the lands.

 

  Finally, once I was a young teen with the new title of “disowned” and having enough of my father’s abuse, I said goodbye to my mother and fled before my father could cause any more harm to me. And so I entered the real world with a fresh start and a new title. And not even a week later I pulled my first heist. You see, part of being a dark elf means that you’re more likely to make friends with the more misunderstood characters of the world. My group for example included me, two cave dwarves, an orc warrior who had earned herself the name "Knife Breaker", and a very quick halfling. And together we formed the most unlikely of friendships and I gave myself the new name, Farren Orchaedia. 

 

  In less than a year; we had stolen a whole fort’s supply of weapons, raided a hermit’s camp, destroyed a bridge, and finally settled with burning down a library. In short, a good ass run for a fantastic 10 months. And finally, I decided I wanted to settle down somewhere which is when I went to Siramenor. 

 

  By this point I was 26 as said before and began to work in the paper trade, cutting down reeds and turning them into books for others to sell making me the richest in the village. But then I decided to go for something bigger which is when I met my husband, or rather, ex-husband.

 

  Methas, like me, was a dark elf known for being the world's worst player of cards and one of the most disturbed men I’ve ever met. Together, we moved into Sutica, moved over to Haelun’or, and got engaged. It was bliss till we had our first son, Kalon. Named after one of the many star gods, he was a beautiful dark elf with white fluffy hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tiny little birthmark making his freckles look like stars. However, little to my knowledge, Methas had other plans in mind for the two of us.

 

  I woke up in the middle of the night to Methas about to plunge a knife into my chest, I fought back, obviously, and fell to the ground. He must’ve thought I was out because he started to leave. But right before I could get up, he murdered my son and left into the night. Kalon was only three days old when he was murdered. I set him off to sea in a proper oceanic funeral and made my way to Elveness. War had come and it was time for me to fight.

 

  The war had been caused by a group of demons known as the Inferni, fire casters corrupted by their magick and rage. I wasn't at all part of the navy yet my fellow brethren and I boarded a massive ship with beautiful red sails and a flag with the Elveness white stag, a sign of hope for our comrades and a sign of fear for all others. And so we were off, sailing for the west side of Korvassa to meet what might just be our end. 

 

  About halfway there, we were attacked on the starboard side by a barrage of giant insects and large metal cannonballs covered in hot tar and fire. Somehow, we all managed to survive and escape to our destination. And when we docked we met a much worse enemy. A giant tan ogre with a head full of horns shoved into his skull like a sadist’s crown. His weapon of choice, a club forged from the mast of a ship we had lost the earlier week. Our high prince, Fëanor, was the first to fall, getting hit directly in the chest as he charged towards the beast. The rest to me gets fuzzy from there.

 

  The next was Sevrel, a Mali’ker I considered my brother who took a hit to his arm but continued to somehow fight. Then was Laetranis, one of the clan chieftains, then Elros, and finally an elf I believed to be Aesilnoth. All seemed lost until my friend whose name I’ve forgotten and I was struck by lightning. And from this emerged where my friend was a tall empyrean figure with giant sets of wings keeping him from touching the ground and a massive staff which took the place of his sword. He had turned into an Aengul, a holy being sent from the gods themselves to end this seemingly unwinnable fight. 

 

  But I too had been struck, my skin felt like it was burning. My face and ears felt as if they were going to explode. Even my limbs felt this. I looked down and instead of the dreaded scars from the lightning that many feared, I had beautiful pale blotches and some colors of blues and purples all across my body. I had spared in a way by the gods who wished to see no more die.

 

  The Aengul told us to follow him and so we did. Passing over rotting bodies, bones, and even a few graves of people from ages past. We saw many different and disturbing things, said goodbye to many people we all loved like family, and finally went back home. But the gods were not done yet. We had been told to go to our homes and pack up, it was time to say goodbye. And so as quickly as I could I grabbed as many drinks as possible, the few actual belongings I wished to keep, my weapons, and made my way for the boats. 

 

  The waters were not kind to us that day. The waves crashed onto the boat almost trying to stop us from leaving. I almost burned my hands through trying to keep the ropes from flying away and hitting everybody off. And finally, we were off. Sailing across the sea to a new world. And on the way, I met a very special person. A Mali’ame a little taller than me with beautiful dark eyes, chestnut skin, and a beard. He told his name was Anessen, he was from the Tahorran clan and together we quickly became friends. And not even a year later I suddenly found myself nursing him back to health after he lost his memory. And little past that, as he got better, we ended up starting a family with our sons Elenion, Maglure, and our daughter Asteria.

 

 

  I am now in my late 60’s and serve as a Sentinel for Elveness. Sevrel and I have started planning a new city for the Mali’ker and together as we work day and night to build our new city. My story still has yet to see a happy ending, I have recently learned that my real father is somewhere out in the world and my mother has just died of old age. Along the way, I’ve ended up meeting dragons, somehow honoring my family, adopting an Eagle, having children, somehow having to take care of my own skygod, and even find myself enjoying the fast side of life. I am still a young Mali’ker and have another 900 years until I possibly leave this world but who knows. I still sometimes hope that my husband would open up again and that my son hadn't died. I even find myself missing Methas every now and then, yet still, I'm happy where I am despite the endless battles I must face both alone and against others. 

11th of the Seed,
16, Second Age
Farren Orchaedia
 

 

 

 

 

[!] Below would be a artist's rendition

of Farren in her iconic veridian dress

{{{Art is by Oz.ias on instagram}}}

 

Edited April 9, 2022 by Hush