mmat 7461 Share Posted April 23, 2022 Within the deepest vaults of Elven libraries rest tomes concerning topics both tangible and abstract. Philosophies and ways of life, martial might and magicks, bestaries and biology. Alongside those dusty pages sits a passage of epic history, lost unjustly among the reams of parchment. It details the life and times of a figure, potentially historical, potentially mythical or perhaps both, from the ancient past. Thousands of years ago, the first Elven kingdom of the progenitor Malin splintered into the fragments of today. The High Elves bathed in the gilded pools and the sorceries of the void. Their skin turned pale, their cities silver. Forces unknown twisted others of Malin’s children into the ashen, moonlit Dark Elves, further sapping the species. Last to leave the old domains were Irrin’s Wood Elves, who departed with their ways and their gods to live a simpler life. But during that period of transition, after Malin disappeared and before the great Elven cities of antiquity fell wholly into the annals of barely recalled memory, a tale tells of one Elf who attempted to reverse the tide of history. Did this enigmatic figure truly exist, or is he simply a figment of an unknown, overactive imagination dreaming of greatnesses long gone? Did the events of the fall of Malin’s realm take place as described? None can truly know, millennia later, of course. Nevertheless, the tale remains to be read. Welcome to the Life of Ulnafex the Undivider. The King is gone to lands unknown. Our kin from Malin’s path have flown With ashen skin and sorcerous spell Or shirkers who in the forest now dwell Sundered it is, our great realm of old Amid the trees its cities sat silent and cold Then from the bleak ashes did rise An echo of old, strong, willful and wise. Born of black tragedy, forged in strife He came through it all, a beacon of new life. Ulnafex. Ulnafex. Your people wish to know Where, my king, oh where did you go? Turn the page Book I ⃒ Apathy Spoiler The home of Ulnafex prior to its first destruction Malin the King disappeared, and tumult filled the void he left behind. Larihei’s magi ventured to the west. Veluluai’s lepers buried themselves in the deep. And so did Irrin, faithful to the Aspects, make an attempt at salvaging the Realm of the Elves. But so degenerated had the kingdom become in those days that even she, most loyal and faithful to the ways of the King, threw up her arms in anger. There would be no rebirth, only division and decay. And in that division, predators emerged, prowling for long-awaited prey. Although the halls of Malin’s people have ever been silent and our hearts heavy with a faceless melancholy, enclaves did indeed exist beyond the great bastions of royal might. In one of those smaller townships, one that kept faith with both Malin’s gods and his fragmenting kingdom, lived an unremarkable vagabond with the name of Ulnafex. He had lived long enough to perceive the decline of his people and feel it gnawing on his soul, but not long enough to have known a time when the King still reigned. Ulnafex, in these years, was languid by nature. While his fellows exerted themselves in crafts of wood and stone, or arts of war or the hunt, Ulnafex exemplified the spirit of his people’s decline, and justified Irrin’s declaration that the cities were forsaken. Neither his parents nor his neighbours nor even his compatriots regarded him with favour, instead brushing by him as a layabout. While the isolated township and its people made their utmost effort to maintain the life they had led, ignoring the depredations of the Kingdom around them, Ulnafex sat idle and watched, lacking perspective and awareness that all he took for granted could be wrenched away in a moment. One day, during early adulthood, the archdruid Valaraea approached Ulnafex by a pondside grove near the town. This druii, a leader of the town’s people, was a vaunted elder in all but appearance. Owing to her Elven heritage, of course, she appeared no older than he, elegant and graceful, and possessing an aura of verdance, not to mention authority. Indeed, she was one of the only Elves who, despite all of Ulnafex’s rude and depraved conduct, did not forsake him utterly, just as she had refused to forsake the cities for the forests in Irrin’s time. Such was her hope, optimism and faith that the tranquillity and power of old could be rekindled, one Elf at a time. In turn, Valaraea remained one of the only people Ulnafex heeded. Still, he was never able to establish why, even though he conducted himself in such a repugnant manner, the archdruid shepherded him in such a kindly manner. He would come to know with perfect clarity. For on this day, Valaraea came to Ulnafex with a task, believing that such responsibility might, over time, break him free of idleness. “We face a peril, young Uln. Our rangers have seen an armed band in the near forests. Now, we are overtaxed and the militia are assigned to other matters. So I come to you, young Uln. I know I can rely on you to venture a short distance from the town and play the role of sentry. If you see aught amiss, come and alert us. I grant this task to you.” This gave Ulnafex pause and a not insignificant degree of internal strife. For in heart, the lazy youth truly had no wish to engage in such a trial. It would inevitably involve hours of boredom and fatigue, and give Ulnafex himself no benefit. However, nor did Ulnafex wish to disappoint the archdruid Valaraea by declining her request. In this, the elder erred. For she believed that the youngling would either accept and perform the duty as desired, or refuse outright. It was a mistake that cost her dearly and set Ulnafex on an entirely different path. Ulnafex took on the responsibility and, later that night, gathered his effects, setting out to the appointed place by the light of the pale moon. Hour upon hour did the Elf stand watch, his only company the small herds of deer skittering by the trees and through the brush. And hour after hour was the indolence of Ulnafex held in check by his desire to please the kindly archdruid that trusted him so. Eventually, however, the indolence reigned supreme. In all his time standing sentinel, not once did Ulnafex observe a hint of danger. And so, reasoning selfishly that his attentions were no longer necessary to keep the settlement safe, he abandoned his appointed station without informing anybody that he had done so. For, in a bout of low cunning, Ulnafex thought both to allay boredom and hardship and, at the same time, gain Valaraea’s approval for a duty diligently completed. Alas, the fate’s arbiter looked down upon the riven Elves with scorn that day, and blew their bitter winds to sweep them away. Soon after Ulnafex deserted his post, the armed force of marauders passed by his recently vacated perch on their way to the town. So while Ulnafex, laying upon the earth with eyes closed, unwound from his meagre labours at lakeside, a great quantity of the town’s inhabitants were cruelly slain. Its beautiful structures of ornate wood and stone, many of which had stood for centuries upon end, were ransacked and burned. And so did that idyllic refuge join score upon score of its siblings as a desolate ruin, destined to be swallowed and forgotten amid the thickets and glades. Only when the marauders had departed and the flames had died to embers did Ulnafex emerge to witness the carnage his inadequacy had wrought. In shock and with tears of disbelief in his eyes, Ulnafex wandered the smouldering husk of the comfortable home he had treated with such apathy. And he realised at last the value of the life he previously possessed, and the tragedy of its loss. Most dreadful among the many horrors of that fell day was the ponderous death of Archdruid Valaraea. Ulnafex discovered her there, bleeding and still breathing her last, propped up against the steps leading up to the town's main hall. An array of the attackers' corpses surrounded the fallen ancient, a testament to her fortitude, courage and the strength of old. Ulnafex, on trembling legs, knelt before the dying druii. He fumbled with his pack for a canteen and, even though it would do little more than offer succour, helped Valaraea to drink. Rendered lucid for but a few more moments by this final sustenance, the archdruid reached up and clasped the survivor’s wrist with as much strength as she could muster. Even at that moment, despite understanding that the actions of Ulnafex had precipitated the disaster, Valaraea did not issue him rebuke. Instead, she took the blame unto herself and rejoiced as to his survival. With her final echoes of life, the archdruid bade Ulnafex survive, remember and receive the mantle of all they had lost. She offered what advice she could and told tales of times long gone before finally passing into the Great Forest beyond. With the weight of millennia of accumulated Elven life extinguished upon his unready shoulders, Ulnafex gathered his supplies and departed his charred home, never to return. Or, so indeed he thought at the time. Book II ⃒ Growth Spoiler Ingfrahiln’s ruined city of old, abandoned for centuries So Ulnafex crossed the threshold into the ancient wilderness a shattered, guilt-ridden husk. In truth, he neither expected nor desired to live, so potent was his despair. But ere her untimely demise, Valaraea planted a seed in her young ward that, in time, would bear the ripest of fruits, and restore to life a soul in danger of desolation. Indeed, Ulnafex’s first days away from civilisation were indeed a time of hardship and discomfort. And so came the first great realisation of Ulnafex’s exile. Ease and laxity in the moment does beget suffering and doom in times to come. And on the other side of the coin does hardship and toil in the moment sow a harvest of profit and plenty to be reaped later. Taking this epiphany of wisdom to heart, Ulnafex began struggling in the moment. And so he embraced the ways of the aspects, not that he knew it at the time. Through much trial and error, he eventually fashioned a rudimentary bow and began hunting forest creatures for food. Stone-tipped arrows, crafted with shoddy, clumsy hands, whistled between the trees. A great many bounced impotently from the bark of trees or thick animal hide, tip detaching from shaft. Sometimes the Elf's lack of deftness spooked his quarry before the killing shot could fly. But, at length, the missiles first felled rabbits, squirrels and then deer. As he had with the fletching, tracking and the archery before, Ulnafex at first failed to skin carcasses and feed himself. Eventually, success came and with it, survival. Months passed, then years. Slowly but surely, Ulnafex's body, honed by harsh rigours and nutrition of the earth, grew formidable in strength. Perhaps even more consequentially, the verdant tranquillity of the forest served as balm for Ulnafex's grief seared soul. Guilt, regret and self-hatred fell away before the force of nature's beauty, and as the tales of faith from childhood returned to mind, crystallising in the solitude of grove and glen. Indolence and passivity collapsed in the face of newfound fortitude and enthusiasm. For now, however, this vigour lay dormant for a lack of purpose. Aside from the necessities of survival, Ulnafex spent much of his days indulging one of Valaraea’s old pastimes - meditating in deep thought. In the course of his wandering, he would find a certain area of the land that pleased his mind and calmed his senses. Perhaps a high hill possessing a peak that breached the tree canopy, or an enclosed grotto next to the calm waters of a falling stream. Whatever his environs, Ulnafex would sit there atop the grass or the stones, legs crossed, often for hours or even days at a time, pondering matters both great and small. Why ever, after a prosperous, unified reign of millennia had Malin the King departed with nary a word, leaving his beloved people to splinter and divide? What lunacy had sundered not only the sorcerors of Larihei and the cursed of Velulaei from the greatest realm that ever was, but also drove the aspects’ most zealous followers into the depths of the greatwood? Most importantly, how in all the world might the security and unity of Malin’s Kingdom be restored in the wake of his loss? And if indeed the feat was possible, would it be desirable? In search of the answers he sought, Ulnafex ventured on. Strength, wisdom and foresight burgeoned ever more vibrantly within the young Mali as he travelled, accruing still further experience. Several years since the pillaging of his home and the advent of his great exodus, Ulnafex caught sight of something truly extraordinary. Great towers and halls constructed in the midst of the forest. Grand statues, half ruined by flame or time, declaring their status to the surrounding silence. A shell, true enough, but a glorious shell, a pale echo of magnificence and beauty sundered. Upon striding through the great arch and entering an overgrown courtyard of the great, nameless city, the sight brought a tear to the eye of Ulnafex, and brought awe to his rich eyes. Thoroughly unable to prevent himself even if that were his desire, the stunned Son of Malin crossed the threshold of the splendid ruin, entranced and trusting that his search for purpose was nearly at an end. “Oi! What is your purpose here, stranger? Get out!” Such uncouth greetings was the manner of Ulnafex’s first meeting with Ingfrahiln the druii, the first living Mali he had met in many long years. Clad in old, mossy robes and wearing a beard scraggly by the elegant standards of his people, this intransigent creature inhabited the husk of the great city’s palatial structure. But to say he inhabited the construction was to vastly oversell the degree of his domain. In truth, the old druid had taken up the mantle of a squatter, unable or unwilling to leave the past behind. Ulnafex went to great lengths to learn from Ingfrahiln, professing a solemn desire for knowledge of the elder’s life. Initially, the squatter refused utterly and commanded Ulnafex to leave the old city, lest he be ejected by force. But so great had the younger Mali’s determination grown that he refused to be ejected without first receiving all the wisdom he could pry. Eventually, the fires of Ingfrahiln’s time-worn scorn died out and he relinquished that which Ulnafex desired. In the shadow of what was once a palatial antechamber, they rested. With eyes hued a faint grey and casual abandon, the druid harnessed the aspect’s gift and, waving his venerable stave, shaped the roots intruding through the broken floor into a makeshift pair of somewhat uncomfortable chairs. And from his newly made throne of did Ingfrahiln release his long-held burden and regale Ulnafex with tales of yore. The elder revealed how, before the King left his people for pastures unknown, he had served as just one of many druids in the city’s sacred grove. Stories were enthusiastically shared of peace shared and glory attained, duty done and evils vanquished. Ingfrahiln also spoke in glowing terms of the time in which Malin himself, in all his royal radiance drawn from the beginning of time, visited the city. Ulnafex was enwrapped. Descending from the triumphant zenith of his tale speaking in a tone filled with sadness, the druid then relived the recent past, the dark era. Conflict and strife flared up in the city even before Malin disappeared. Faith fell away, society eroded and, at length, even those most zealous in their conformity to the King’s ways abandoned the splendour, unity and prosperity of old. Of all the inhabitants, only Ingfrahiln the mossy druid, stubborn and sentimental, refused to forsake the ancient place, serving as the city’s custodian as it decayed and was progressively swallowed once more by the forest. Ulnafex found himself profoundly affected by the elder’s tale. And now, possessing newly wrought strength of body and strength of mind drawn from the lifeblood of nature, he held the tools with which to act. Brought forth by an innate passion enflamed by the druid’s tale of lost majesty, Ulnafex declared thus. “Revered elder. My life thus far has drifted in the wind like an autumnal leaf, detached and desiccated, primed for only the abyss. In my ignorance and folly, I condemned hundreds to that same pit while myself escaping. I feel sorrow and anger, but now, pride and purpose. I promise you, elder, the restoration of the lost. Come from this place now, and witness our rebirth.” And so he did. Book III ⃒ Action Spoiler Ulnafex the Undivider among the Mali’ame Bound by the bracing chains of an oath sincerely given, Ulnafex and his bristly new companion left the abandoned city to the mercy of the wilds. Despite the pessimistic protestations of the old druid, both set forth to find their remaining kin. During the journey, when Ulnafex and Ingfrahiln sat by fireside as the dark hours beckoned, repeatedly would the druid repudiate his reborn companion’s ambitions. It would be an impossible task, he said, to repair utterly a pristine goblet once carelessly dropped on the ground and shattered. Once squandered, it might not be revived, unless he who crafted it in the first place returned to shape another. And as all Mali knew, Malin was gone. But Ulnafex proclaimed nay! While the task would be far from simple, he would learn to craft a vessel of similar beauty for the Mali people by whatever means necessary. So Ulnafex, returning at length to the region of his birth, drew close to the first of his people’s settlements with an end in mind. It was a typically beautiful, albeit simple place. Buildings crafted on the flank of a spiral hill with a tower on its peak, melding with the surrounding woods. In his wisdom, Ulnafex did not allow his end to overwhelm his senses and his wisdom, for he knew that such a lofty design as his must by necessity meet great resistance. Nor did he employ deception in this. Rather, Ulnafex strode to the palatial tower outright and requested a conclave with the local leader, Vaileth. In contrast to the long-dead archdruid Valaraea, this leader was far younger. In fact, he was only slightly Ulnafex’s elder, and welcomed these strangers eagerly. Forthrightly, Ulnafex declared his intent to bring strength and unity back to the remaining cities of Malin’s people, and bring them into a new time of prosperity. That was his purpose. However, knowing he was himself yet deedless, Ulnafex put himself first and foremost at Vaileth’s disposal. Any task that the leader might give, he would perform to the utmost. This apparent willingness to act so selflessly tempered Vaileth’s scepticism and so, Ulnafex entered into service, requiring nothing in return. While Ingfrahiln occupied himself convening with and mentoring the druii of the town, Ulnafex the traveller became familiar with its people and their struggles. Those who required aid were assisted in whatever menial task was at hand, and were grateful for the aid. And when these kinsmen asked what their payment would be, Ulnafex simply asked them to listen to his desire for a resurgence of Malin’s people and their splendour. A great many listened and were drawn into the dream of their new companion. In time, even Vaileth came to believe. After several months living and aiding the town, Ulnafex ventured out to the nearby hinterlands in the garb of a scout, armed with spear and shield. On his travels, he, with eagle eyes, witnessed from afar a camp of stunted peoples, stocky, short and armoured in pragmatic panoply of black iron. Clearly, these foreigners were outfitted for war. Prudently, Ulnafex maintained his concealment, taking account of the invaders’ numerical strength, the blunt sophistication of their craft and their martial orderliness, before returning to the town. He alerted Vaileth and the townspeople without delay, professing a desire to fight if it were indeed necessary. Vaileth accepted this offer. However, seeking to employ his kinsman’s charismatic talents to the greatest effectiveness, he beseeched Ulnafex to traverse the forests to the south and therein seek reinforcement from a clan of Mali’ame, the Elves of the Wood, who had deserted the detestable cities centuries ago under the banner of Irrin. And so did Ulnafex venture into the depths of the forest, braving sheer cliffs, great beasts and thorned groves. There, he bore witness to the Mali’ame for the first time, noting their prodigious numbers when compared to the dwindling city-dwellers. They lacked the structures and glittering civilisation of Malin’s old kingdom, but still held to the purity of the old ways. In that, Ulnafex found that he bore respect for them, moreso than the other deserters. But he himself, who was clearly not of the clan based people, found himself under suspicion. As he had with Vaileth’s people, however, so did he win the Mali’ame to his cause by word and deed. For by faith in the aspects, the ‘ame and the Mali of Malin’s kingdom did find common cause and common threat. It is even said that Ulnafex received an honourary ilmyumier marking as a mark of his kinship with the forest dwellers. The chief promised his forces to aid Vaileth when the time came, and the future initiation of good relations. Now during his time amongst the Mali’ame, Ulnafex met, befriended and proceeded to become enamoured with a woman of that seed. She was an aspiring druii and seed chief’s daughter with the name Elwenne, who possessed great skill with the bow. Upon first seeing the braided warrioress, Ulnafex supposedly witnessed her leap from a thin tree branch and, while in the midst of flight, shoot a hawk from the air with a single precise strike, before landing unharmed, on bent knees. He was, in truth, immediate smitten, but failed to reveal these feelings for fear that they would only serve as an obstacle to his higher goals. Nevertheless, they associated freely up until the time came to return to Vaileth’s stronghold. And when indeed he was forced to leave the Mali’ame, Elwenne accompanied him as companion and emissary both. Ulnafex resolved only to reveal the purposes of his heart to this companion when, and only when, his duty and goal was complete. “Vaileth, my kindred and brother in soul, I am glad to return to this tower once more. I bring good tidings for our efforts and a sprite from the deeps of the wood.” Coming into the aegis of the town, Elwenne introduced herself to Vaileth in the manner of a fiery tigress, professing her own people’s willingness to resist the invaders with clenched fist. That evening, to celebrate the newly made alliance, the town’s people inhabitants gathered together in the grand hall and toasted Elwenne as guest of honour, much to her embarrassment. Ulnafex sat at Vaileth’s right hand that night, quiet and contemplative, his mind lost in just how far things had come, and what was still to occur. Nevertheless, the night was filled with much celebration, muted though it was due to the coming clash. Only when the moon vanished behind the treeline did reconnaissance arrive proclaiming that the black iron-clad invaders were on the move. Vaileth and his people readied for war, bringing to bear a fragmented shadow of Malin’s might of old. Book IV ⃒ War Spoiler Vaileth’s muster and march When sunrays breached the leafy canopy on the morning of the battle, the masterworked panoply of the Mali of Malin’s kingdom glittered like diamond raindrops amid the trees, their armour bedecked with trimmed sashes of verdant green. Elite heavy infantry, Vaileth at their head, marched forth from the town in orderly columns, four abreast, bearing graceful spears and tall shields. Small, however, was their strength in numbers when compared to the lighter armed militia bearing bows and blades, clad in leather or ringmail. They too came forth in great columns, but with lesser unity and discipline than their professional comrades. Despite all this, the barren children of Malin’s old realm found themselves outnumbered when they emerged onto the battlefield plain and observed their opposition. Upon observing the army of Elves streaming out of the forest and blocking their line of march, the invaders arrayed themselves for battle. At the recommendation of Ulnafex, who had learned something of strategy during his time among the people, Vaileth placed his elite shielded spearmen in the centre and his militia on the wings. A simple enough deployment for a simple enough strategy - hold fast and wait. But catastrophe struck swiftly when the attackers launched their thunderous charge. For in the first melee, even though the clash was evenly matched, Vaileth himself was struck down by an enemy axe and killed, greatly demoralising the Mali forces. The resulting disarray allowed the invaders to get into the gaps between their taller adversaries and cause chaos. Soon enough, it seemed as though the outnumbered Elves would be thoroughly routed. Although the less formidable militia, lacking combat experience, proved unable to remain firm against the enemy onslaught, the stalwart, silent resistance of the armoured Elven infantry prevented the line’s collapse. Attack after attack they repulsed with the strength of their shield until salvation arrived. The heart of the battle was located on a plan close to the enemy camp, but a branch of the forest snaked out from the mass of trees like a curved blade, looming ominously near the field of combat. Quietly, through that dark strand, stepped the warriors of the Mali’ame, lead by Ulnafex and the seed’s chief. Rather than charging forth at once and assaulting the invaders from behind, Ulnafex suggested utilising the Mali’ame archery in a cunning scheme that would allow more lives to be saved. He bid the forest archers break from the treeline, loose a volley of deadly arrows into the invading mass, before immediately withdrawing into concealment before the missiles even hit home. And so it appeared to the enemy that their forces were being assailed by spectres or, at the least, a force of unknown deadliness. The fear such a deft stroke of tactical acumen drew from the enemy relieved the pressure on Vaileth’s heavy infantry and gave them breathing room. Then, when the invaders’ attentions drifted away from the forests, Ulnafex had them break from cover and loose two volleys. This time, however, the archers were ordered to remain in view. So now the illusion portrayed the image of a vast, ever growing horde of Mali gathering in that forest. And though the strength of the Mali’ame was indeed formidable, the deception made it greater still. Still, the resolve of the invaders was only shaken, not shattered. Much war still remained to be waged. While Vaileth’s warriors rallied and pushed back against the invaders from the front, Ulnafex, the Mali’ame chief and his people traded their bows for melee weapons and surged against them from the flank. The enemy detached a portion of their forces to face this new threat. Battle was joined, with the Mali defenders now possessing the positional and morale advantage thanks to the ingenuity of Ulnafex. Nevertheless, the battle proved to be gruelling. Enemy axes, swung with brutal efficiency, cut Mali’ame down in the dozens. But so too did the spears and swords of the forest Elves, wielded with elegance and piercing precision, find weaknesses in the invaders’ armour. The battle appeared all but won, but the thundercloud of tragedy still loomed above the field, primed to unleash its rainfall before day’s end. Arrayed among the ranks of dead on the battlefield was the Mali’ame chieftain, who fell to myriad axes after weaving himself a pathway of blood too deeply into the enemy ranks. More tragically for Ulnafex, Elwenne also, who was cruelly slain attempting to save her father in the melee. It is said though, that she reaped a great harvest of foes with her spear before falling. At this point, Ulnafex remained blissfully unaware as to these dire events, so focused he was on the fight at hand. Ulnafex earned great renown in battle that day, not only among Malin’s children, Vaileth’s people and Mali’ame both, but also the invaders who quailed at his approach. Alongside the kindred of his now-fallen companion, Ulnafex reaved the foe with piercing thrusts of his spear and the prodigious strength of his shield arm. So deep did his assault scythe into the enemy ranks that he and his comrades even drew close to the invaders’ commander, a fearsome, stout and armoured warrior a horn-clad black iron helm. Upon seeing Ulnafex, he raised his great hammer in challenge and was received in turn. Then Ulnafex, awash with righteous passion, declared to the cloudless skies "You have come to us, invader, and so I have come for you!" With brilliant fleet-of-foot Ulnafex dashed into the fray. The first blow was his, Elven speartip clanging against the thick shoulder plate of the enemy leader after a lightning jab. He drew back then, braced himself and brought his shield to bear, resisting the powerful hammer-blow that struck a moment later. Then, deftly, Ulnafex shifted forward and flicked his shield forward, sending the heavy hammer in an inconvenient direction and twisting his enemy’s formidable momentum against him as a weapon. As the foe reeled back, attempting to regain his composure, Ulnafax put all his weight into a ferocious shield charge and, calling the name of the hunter god aloud, smashed the enemy commander to the earth. Bereft of his weapon and dazed, the invader was helpless to prevent Ulnafex raising one foot and stepping on his chest, before thrusting the spear into the slit between gorget and helmet. Victory was his. With it, the day was won for the Mali. Unfortunately, the elation of success was tempered by the spice of tragedy heretofore unknown. For when Ulnafex attempted to find his close comrades Vaileth and Elwenne and celebrate with them, he instead discovered their deaths. And so, with sorrow in heart, he was thrust unbidden into a situation that might lead to the achievement of his greater goals. As neither Vaileth, nor Elwenne, nor her chieftain father had survived the clash, the inheritance of leadership on all counts fell to Ulnafex. He had proved his fortitude, charisma and vision to both peoples during their time amongst them and, in the wake of the battle, they trusted him, a stranger whom they had grown to love, to guide them into a golden future. Although he accepted the burden without hesitation, there remained in it no joy for Ulnafex. For he had lost not only his companions, but Elwenne also, the light at the end of the tunnel of his labours. Book V ⃒ Rule Spoiler Valaraea during the dominion of Ulnafex the Undivider In the aftermath of the Mali victory against the invaders, Ulnafex took up leadership in Vaileth’s tower. To steward his Mali’ame allies he assigned Ingfrahiln who, as a druid, possessed affinity with those of Irrin’s people. From his newly taken throne, Ulnafex encouraged the proliferation of trade, and the interlinking of peoples, between those in the town and those who dwelt in the forests. Through this came prosperity, with each kindred enriched by the other. Many inhabitants of the town, which Ulnafex named Vaileth in honour of his benefactor and friend, even intermarried with the Mali’ame peoples, and many children were born of that union. In case of any further attacks, Ulnafex reorganised and trained the military. The people of Vaileth became specialised in the use of spear and shield, while the Mali’ame retained their speciality of skirmishing, archery and lightly armoured forest warfare. And though Malin would never reappear, a new sense of optimism and hope prevailed. Ulnafex’s greater goal of re-knitting together the fabric of Malin’s great realm was ever in his mind. But once more, he did not allow over-haste or rashness to cloud his judgement. Rather than forcing his chosen course onto any surrounding settlements or forest seeds by force, he instead chose the path of beneficence, patience and generosity. When a nearby people found their defences lacking in the face of enemy attack, Ulnafex marched to their aid without condition at the head of his forces. Under his rule, prosperity flowed from Vaileth to enrich the lives of other settlements, isolated by the turmoil of the kingdom. Slowly but surely, emissaries, councillors, chieftains and leaders came to Ulnafex, asking for a part in this ambitious project of resurgence and the succour of his governance. They were warmly received. And slowly but surely, the lands under Vaileth’s confederation grew and grew. To say a Mali kingdom had been remade would be to overstate Ulnafex’s achievements up to that time. However, the momentum was clear. If affairs continued as they were, a form of Malin’s old realm might be remade from the ruins. One day, many years following the expulsion of the invaders, Ulnafex decided on a great work to take advantage of his people’s prosperity. Vaileth had been the site of his plan’s first fruits, but it was a town and nothing more. So, summoning druii, stonecrafters and architects from throughout his domain, Ulnafex ventured to the ruins of his old home, its blackened ruins still scarring the forest. With the aid of the aspect’s servants, he respectfully cleared the old ruins away and, in their place, laid the foundations for a great capital city. Though the flower of its grandeur would take years to truly bloom, Ulnafex had a statue of the dead archdruid Valaraea constructed aside the old grove. And from that the city itself drew its name, Valaraea. Alone in the grove, while his people began work to raise a great Elven city from the earth, Ulnafex shed a single tear into the pool, a tribute to the woman whose misplaced trust had set his journey in motion. Several quiet years of careful artifice followed. From centre to outer edge, Valaraea rose from the earth in concord with the land around it. Pillared domes and helical spires climbed through the trees, their foundations entwined with the strength of roots and vigorous life below. Gentle streams, lush with lilypads and aquatic critters, wound their way aside the streets before uniting and descending to the lower levels in a great blue-green waterfall, around which were carved stone steps for traversing. Indeed, rather than stealing vitality from the land, Valaraea seemed to invigorate it still further. Ulnafex walked among his artisans and craftsmen, granting boons, directing efforts as he saw fit and, where his abilities made it possible, personally assisting in the construction. But as he looked around at the burgeoning city, he saw a lack of Elven life, for Valaraea was yet an unpopulated shell, a domicile waiting for its people. Something about the lifeless, deserted site elicited sadness in Ulnafex, as though he was able to see a future yet unaccomplished. But, shaking away the melancholy, he returned to work. Both to populate the new capital and further unify his people, Ulnafex, with the consultation of his fellow leaders, decided on a chosen course. He dispatched envoys throughout the small but growing forest realm under his government, its towns and cities, its glades and groves. They bore invitations for a certain quantity of enterprising citizens from each place, bidding them come and begin new lives in Valaraea. And so they came, streaming through the forests and into the growing city. Ulnafex greeted each party with an open heart, assigned them homes and a place within the city according to their skills. He also dispatched similar entreaties to the Mali’ame seeds who had settled nearby, inviting them to settle in the cultured groves on the outskirts of Valaraea. In short time, the budding capital of Ulnafex’s vibrant people put the lie to the old curse that Malin’s halls would be forever silent. In particular did Ulnafex take great pains to show the newly arrived druids to the shrine of archdruid Valaraea, and extoll her virtues as an example for them to follow. All throughout the Valaraean domain of Ulnafex, peace, prosperity and security held dominion under his stable government. Then, in the twenty-eighth year after the great victory against the invaders, a most telling event took place. A faction arose in Valaraea championing the creation of a royal throne for Ulnafex, and his installation as King. Now, despite their great vigour, these people were well-meaning, believing that the unity and authority of the kingly title would herald even greater prosperity. Indeed, did Malin himself not provide plenty and strength for millennia before his disappearance? Ulnafex understood this longing, but desired no crown of his own. So, gathering the people of Valaraea in a grand concourse beneath the central dome of the city, Ulnafex asked them all to look around at what magnificence had been created in the absence of a monarch. “No King but Malin.” he proclaimed aloud, and stated his intent to lead the Elves into the future regardless. Though, some still believed he had erred by refusing the regal seat. In order to relieve himself, if only for a while, of the stresses of governing, not to mention the persistent clamouring of royalists who would have him don a crown, Ulnafex decided on an exodus into the wilds. But he would not have it said that, leaving important matters undone, he had surrendered to indolence and sauntered off to who knows where. Before leaving therefore, Ulnafex led his reorganised legions of Elven warriors on a procession around the Valaraean dependencies. Where a threat emerged, he and his mighty forces quelled it with prowess in war and discipline. During this time, it is told that a force of Lariheian arcanists from the west attempted an incursion into the forests. Ulnafex crushed their cohorts of magi and, in a personal combat, slew their archon with a spear thrust through the eye. And when the security of his realm was guaranteed for a time, he returned to Valaraea. Leaving a trusted advisor to administer the city during his absence, Ulnafex prepared to venture into the forests. Book VI ⃒ Verdant Spoiler The Shrine of Valaraea As Ulnafex, incognito and with a pack slung over his shoulder, resolved to depart Valaraea for a time, he glanced, perchance, the entrance to Valaraea’s quaint shrine. With none to observe his passing, Ulnafex paced quietly into the shrine and sat crosslegged before the statue he had erected of the archdruid whom, so many years before, he had failed utterly. The ruler’s eyes drew closed and he felt, only for a moment, as though he was back in that era before the great disaster had shaken his life. He recalled the laziness, the sloth and the indolence, and he felt disgust, even removed from those deeds by such a great span of time. But when Ulnafex’s eyes opened once more, he bore witness to a phenomenon that was strange indeed. A phantom stood in front of him, lacking true form and definition, but present nonetheless. One that bore resemblance to the statue in front of which it appeared. Valaraea stood still, looking down at Ulnafex with a gentle smile on her face. Then, she sat mirroring him, and spoke. “I have missed you, little renegade. How much you have grown since last we spoke, and how much you have accomplished. It is extraordinary. I dearly wish you had not committed your new haven to my name, but I am honoured nonetheless. Yet I know that burden of loss clear on your face. But as much as seeing you again warms my heart, that was not the purpose of my visit from the forest beyond. I must show you something of great consequence.” Ulnafex granted the vision of Valaraea one of his sparing smiles. Forcing down the urge he possessed to converse with her and ask the returned archdruids’ counsel, Ulnafex simply nodded and bid her do as she requested. And so she did. The world spun and the grove faded. Soon enough, Ulnafex found himself in another place, familiar but alien in equal measure. From above, the ruler saw a bent reflection of his own form, glorious and yet terrible. The foretelling was magnificently armoured against the backdrop of a grand palace facade, bedecked with plinths bearing statues of Ulnafex and his many triumphs. He stood alone, singular in majesty atop a great staircase of stone, spear in hand and a crown circlet atop his head, flanked at intervals by motionless, cold praetorians. At the base of that staircase knelt hundreds, perhaps thousands of people. Elves both male and female, young and old, all prostrate before his own inexorable majesty. Unlike the comradely reverence given to Ulnafex in the capital he had created, this was near worship. Domination. Supremacy. The world of a tyrant ascendant. While the inhabitants of familiar Valaraea would approach their leader and converse with him as they would converse with a respected father, the population of this other grandiose place knelt, bowed and scraped to the King’s might. He was their god, in all but name. Reality swirled once more and left the King and his sycophants behind. Instead, a battlefield, awash with the detritus of war and desolated by fire, loomed large in Ulnafex’s vision. As his regal duplicate looked on impassive, those same praetorians now took on the role of grisly executioners, unceremoniously scything the heads from the bodies of kneeling, pale-skinned Elven prisoners with ornate scythes. Clearly, their faction had been defeated. The cadavers collapsed to the ground, bound hands still tucked behind their backs. Reality faded once more, and once more did Valaraea speak. “Though you deny and deny, my dear Ulnafex, time and time again, your people will eventually thrust a crown upon your head. That crown will warp you. You will become a king, above those mere mortals and equal to Malin himself. And you will do all this for their good. Strength will be theirs again. No enemy on the outside will best you. Unity once more. You will destroy or subjugate those who aforetime deserted us, and pushed our King away. But you must ask yourself, Ulnafex, is this future what you desire for those over whom you hold stewardship?” Ulnafex sat in the grove once more, facing Valaraea’s echo, his face paling and expression utterly stunned. He found himself without words, but Valaraea asked for none. She simply stood and gestured to the statue of her own likeness, where a green tear in reality emerged. Without another word spoken, the echo passed through the newly opened gateway. Ulnafax, at that moment, pictured his people’s branching paths to the future. If he resisted Valaraea’s pull and turned back into the city, he would become a king and a tyrant, the dictatorial saviour of his people from disintegration and extinction. But if he passed through into the great forest beyond, Ulnafex would release his people from his iron grip. They would be free to decide their own fates, unbound by the ambitions of an upjumped fool. In that moment of weakness, convinced by the visions and weighed down by his burdens and griefs, Ulnafex passed through into the unknown, leaving behind him only an empty grove. Days passed, weeks, months and then years. The people of Ulnafex’s vibrant realm initially considered that their ruler had simply ventured far, and would return to them. Over time, however, it became clear that he would not. The people of the city of Valaraea lamented as to their loss. Its scholars began to pen records, archives, histories and myths of Ulnafex, the unlikely ruler who might have, given time, redeemed Malin’s failure, but instead followed him into the nothingness of memory. The chroniclers could not call him a king, for he had never accepted a crown nor truly possessed a kingdom. So instead they honoured him simply as Ulnafex the Undivider. OOC: Spoiler ((Watched a pretty cool video about the gigachad thunder king from WoW and it inspired me to do a bit of writing. I've been ill and/or/ injured for a while now so this creative bullshit takes my mind off it. Hope it's not too terrible. I was too lazy to proofread so minor (or major) grammar errors are expected. some stuff might not make sense because I usually just wing it tbh. The historical setting/timeline is taken from this. The art is all ripped from various random pages and is not created by me, because I have the artistic skill of a dying walrus If you can grind through the read and feel like you want to use this in your rp in any way, feel free. If not, just enjoy)) 11 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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