Discovery of the Old Ways

[ThatFunkyBunch 2818]

Ganzrinog T’Dyrr leading an expedition upon the island of Asul where some ruins of Magarah'lin lay hidden, shortly after Dak’ir Des’Nox’s pilgrimage.

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Dak’ir would take a pilgrimage to the ancient homeland. To walk a spiritual path. As Krug had once taught Velulaei, another Uruk would teach Dak’ir the art of Shamanism.

 

An Uruk by the name of Shagarath’Yar. To see a lifeless frozen tundra, caved in tunnels and toppled monuments to Luara, and even other spirits. Great halls were the dead laid to rest were ruined from the years of conflict brought by the Azulites. What had remained of the Mali’ker’s first ancient home had long since been forgotten to most. The lonesome Des’nox strode onward. Venturing to the heart of the caverns. Caverns that had been explored in a previous expedition lead by Ganzrinog T’Dyrr.

With this, Dak’ir sat himself a moment. To prepare himself for a trip to a land beyond. His veneration of the ancestors had been correct, Dak’ir soon learned. The Mali’ker fell near motionless within the ruins, drifting off to realm most strange. A towering gate stood before him. Behind him lay nothing but a dry barren land. The gateway was not left unattended. A towering figure stood at the gate, draped in an ebony cloak. Which drifted as a slight breeze pushed the dark fabric. Showing a towering skeletal form from passing time to time. Silence was exchanged between the two, the Mali’ker strode on through the gate. Left unhindered by its appointed guardian.

 

Dak’ir Des’nox pushed on, the gateway gave life to a light not seen before. A warmth of the sun. The chirp of birds, rushing water. Stone caverns lined a pathway forward. Eyes were upon him, the narrow pathway being a long trek. The Mali’ker, in time made it through the cavern passageway. To see a vast land, a towering monument. The Uruk that had long worshipped the spirits were seen to Dak’ir. From the tower before him, was the roar of laughter and jovial voices.

 

The Mali’ker pressed on past the tower of celebration. Eyes settling upon the vast fields before him. That seperated Dak’ir from a stretch of wall, three great cities stood tall and proud behind the wall. To this Mali’kers surprise. He saw matching ebony skin within the fields. Families traveling to and from the gate within the far away walls. Mali’ker and Uruk alike stood within the fields, though some of these Uruk gave looks of displeasure upon the sight of Dak’ir. After searching for so long, Dak’ir had found where the first of his kin went. They pointed him to the center city beyond the walls far far away. Where he would find the answers he sought for so long.

 

Dak’ir pressed on. Through the fields, and gate. To march to the top of the lone mountain city draped in eternal night. Atop, he would find a distant and forlorn tall, dark elven woman. Velulaei, the first dark elf. Daughter of Malin. While this meeting would take many years to happen. As the young shaman needed to hone his skill and prove his worth. She would eventually show herself to him. And solemnly, she explained the past to Dak’ir. What had happened, of herself and the Maehr. Dak’ir would return on rare occasion to meet with Velulaei in the years following whether for conversation or silent companionship. They would always meet at the peak of Groth’Stroh.

 

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The Birth of the Mali’ker, The Old Ways
“Our journey began with Maehr. A force of scholars and archeologists led by Malins daughter Velulari. They were tasked by Malin himself with the learning of the Gods and immortal beings of our ancient homeland. Upon her travels, they met the sons of Krug. Back then they were a lot less hostile to outsiders, they found more solace within the Spirits than in nature serving Aspects. Seeing them as primal and pure in their boundless power. Taking this knowledge and faith with them. They continued their journey."

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"It was in a lost city that they would find their damnation. A vile red mist, some ancient dead god bent on self-service and perhaps the consumption of everything around it. Either way, it bent her and her expedition to its will. And they boarded their ships to return home to Malinor. Not to seek help, but driven out of hatred and rage. A desire for senseless carnage and slaughter. They pillaged the coastal towns before Malin learned of what happened. The All-father's mercy saved us, but he exiled them from Malinor.

 

They chased them south to an island that was cold and desolate for the most part. Doomed to walk out their hardened existence scraping a living from rocks and stones, too terrified to go below into the dark caverns the riddled the islands. Most days they clung to their sanity as best as possible, to keep from killing one another. Though few others, disgustingly, embrace it. We shall get to those later. Regardless, Velulaei knew she and the rest of her kin were slipping.

As night fell, she snuck from their encampment to climb to the highest peak she could reach. There she would gather her sanity and plea to the Spirits. Anywho would listen. As any uruk could tell you, getting the attention of a Spirit is difficult unless you are a shaman. She was just so fortunate that one happened to be listening and had a desire to cut a deal. Laura came before Valuleai, a white wolf pure as snow. The moon shined upon her and she radiated both power and a blessed calm.

 

She promised that as long as they knew her glow, they would know sanity of their minds. Of course, for a price. Velu agreed. Salvation so clearly the choice. At this, Luara's light beamed upon her and the Maehr within the valley below. Their pale, pink skin turned a deep ashen. Their eyes of oak turning to vivid gemstones or reds and blues, greens and violets. Their hair bleaching and darkening white as Luara's surface or ebony as death. Velu returned to her people. All looking to her for answers.

 

She pointed skyward to the moon who still hung above them, watching us as she always would. Dubbing themselves the Mali'ker. The Dark Elves. She led them into the caverns, expanding them even further into the forgotten depths. Here they conquered the dark and built temples in and upon the surface to honor Luara. In paying homage to the kin they lost on the island and their journey they began to take lessons from them. Especially in their great cavern world.

 

This gave way to the early Ancestralism. Taking lessons from 'Ker who had performed great deeds or suffered great losses, they learned from them. Remembered and honored. This was the peak of our ancient kin. An under wonderland ruled by us and for our kin alone. However, fate would not have such as we can clearly see. Azul, the betrayed. He and his cohorts had desired a return to the old ways, to embrace the madness and vile deeds they once committed against their kin. They would try to topple Luara's control.

He gathered his numbers and his time and on the eve of his first strike. He met Velulaei upon the peak. To speak on life. Life before they changed and life now. Soon he devolved into his own talk of destiny and his mad vision. Velulaei did her best and seemed to talk him free of his nonsense. He went on to offer her a cup of wine and they drank. And soon she fell to the floor. Gasping for life. Azul left his mother there, to begin his war against his own people.

 

The Azulite forces would raid settlements of the hollow and raze temples that they came across. Butchering as they went. Velulaei's husband Uradras would take up the mantle of leadership afterward. Leading a bloody crusade against his son. For a time they were matched. Azulite savagery winning when they could catch the Vindicator's of Magarah'in by surprise. But logic and strategy would see them cut down over time. And soon Uradras got his prize.

 

Dragging Azul from his stronghold, Uradras decided it was Luara's choice to bestow his judgment. The spirit that he hated so much would decide his fate. And upon the same peak, he murdered his mother. Azul was bathed in moonlight. Laura giving him the madness he desired. After that, Uradras took him ever deeper into the caves that any had ever known. Locking him in a vault, chained to scream his madness to the end of time.

 

The Azulites fled from the great caves and into the country to harass who they pleased. You'd know their defendants these days as the trouble-making 'Ker. Bandits, degenerates, heretics. Uradras would call the collective of what clans remained in their great city. They knew this cave was too dangerous after the loss of most of their kin. Without Velu's guidance, their days were numbered. So they forsook their homes. In time to join their cousins in fleeing to the lands of Aegis and the worlds that lead to today." 
 

Dak’ir Des’nox, re-telling his journey into the ancient frozen homeland of the Dark elves.