The Media Wizard
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THE ESTEL ELVES
~ A Short Player's Guide ~
INTRODUCTION
So you want to play an Estel? That is fantastic news! This guide is a short, easy-breezy guide to styling yourself and your roleplay around the simple concepts of the Estel elves. First, though, who are the Estel? The Estel — or the trusted — are elves who reject the bindings of a subrace. They are “trusted” due to their loyalty and dutiful service to the High Prince of the Elves. They wear fine clothes, worship the natural world and stand as a beacon to all others of elfdom. How do you play one?
PERSONALITY and PERCEPTION
The Estel are a lordly, ethereal people. They seek to represent the goodness of the world through their actions and take every opportunity to serve their nation and kin justly. Rather than explain in detail through text, I have elected to share some videos that help to explain how the Estel represent themselves in roleplay.
WISDOM and SINCERITY
The Estel aim to be a wise people instead of a purely intelligent one. They seek to synthesize information and brandish their foresight as their wit and charm. Despite this, they also aim to be sincere and kind to all races. They see value in everyone and are loving people.
SpoilerIn this clip, we see a heartfelt conversation between Elrond and Bilbo. Despite the kind words, the elflord still enjoys the sincere and foolish moment he shares with the hobbit. Likewise, the Estel strive to be seen as keepers of wisdom and enjoyers of goodness.
SpoilerIn this clip, too, we see a dinner scene within Elrond’s home of Rivendell. He jests with Gandalf, recounts the history of the weapons found by the party and is stupefied by the silliness of the dwarves without becoming enraged. Likewise, the Estel are known to be kindhearted and foolish themselves, but not as much as other races. Their playfulness is subtle.
TRADITION and REGALITY
The Estel hold grace and tradition above all else. They aim to present themselves as strong, ancient people capable of great acts of heroism and inspiration. They give gifts and trust in the will and strength of all who give them a reason to.
SpoilerIn this clip, we see the elves of Lothlorien giving advice, inspiration and gifts to the Fellowship of the Ring. Likewise, the Estel aim to provide insight and power to others who travel to their lands with good intentions.
POWER and DECISIVENESS
Despite all else, the Estel are a strong people. They are subject to envy, fear and ruthlessness so long as it is served alongside justice, though. They act quickly and spare little time for voting or group-think. Each Estel strives to be a leader and to protect their kin no matter the cost.
SpoilerIn this clip, we see Thranduil and his company of elves interrogating an orc prisoner who raided their lands. There is fear that drives Thranduil to act, but it is a strong front that he provides to his enemies. Likewise, the Estel are not peaceful by any means. They will act ruthlessly if they are threatened, but they are no brutes.
SpoilerIn this clip, we see the soldiers of Lothlorien coming to support the men of Rohan in their defense of Helm’s Deep. Their arrival inspires and surprises the Men present. Likewise, the Estel aim to be life-long friends to those in need and to provide their services and soldiers when needed. They are trusted for a reason.
ATTIRE and FASHION
The Estel aim to represent themselves in beautiful clothing and armor. They wear extravagant robes, dresses, sashes and anything else that make them stand out in a crowd of gambeson-wearing humans. Below are some skin references of my own character as well as FREE-TO-USE skins that I believe may fit the culture well.
MALE FASHION
Spoiler
FEMALE FASHION
Spoiler
FREE-TO-USE SKINS
Spoilerhttps://www.planetminecraft.com/skin/elven-robes-free-to-use/
https://www.planetminecraft.com/skin/roslyn/
https://www.planetminecraft.com/skin/the-taken-4883372/
https://www.planetminecraft.com/skin/fit-for-the-queen/
https://www.planetminecraft.com/skin/winery-draping-lotc/
https://www.planetminecraft.com/skin/hexed-4834920/
https://www.planetminecraft.com/skin/lotc-fur-outfit/
NOW WHAT DO I DO?
Basic personality? Check. Skin? Check. Now what are you supposed to do?
The next step is to come roleplay with us! The Estel are primarily housed in Elvenesse at the west hub. Its your time to travel to us and start shaping the future of the city and the Estel culture. This guide includes building blocks to starting out, but you roleplaying the character is what is going to make it the most fun. There is more to learn about traditions, religion and culture, but those will be discovered through roleplay.
This culture is not meant to be overbearing or dominant in any way. It is a crash-course into some of the great elven roleplay we are cultivating in the southern woodlands. If you enjoy it, come on down and meet us.
You can also read THE ESTEL | Elves of a New Dawn if you want to learn more about the general idea of the Estel. You can also reach out to me on discord to be added to the Elvenesse discord chat: Zilldude#0478. Feel free to message me if you have any questions. Good luck out there, players.
Spoiler
"A shameless LOTR ripoff? I don't know what you mean..."
10 -
Prince Amaesil Vuln'miruel smiles and nods. "No others I would trust with this task. Make us proud, Ke Kai'len."
Spoiler
2 -
THE ESTEL
ELVES OF A NEW DAWN
The city was empty. The woodland realm that had been constructed and inhabited by the Irrinites had become a desolate ruin of its former glory. Seed halls laid in shambles and the famous square had become overgrown with weeds and roots. Standing above it all was the great Citadel of the Sea Prince. It was to this iron-clad fortress and the dockyard that the remaining Elvenessi had retreated during the Great Schism. The majority of these elves were not Irrinite, Almenodrim or Aegrothonian, though — they had become something entirely new during the course of Elvenesse’s reign.
They had become the Estel — elf-lords of an older time.
H I S T O R Y
After the election of High Prince Evar’tir Oranor, the elves that had formed Elvenesse began to fracture. Political ambitions and nostalgia for the past had led many kin to splinter off in search of other prospects. Many of the Irrinites, for example, began a mass exodus to the wilds in order to construct a new community akin to Siramenor of the past. As such, the only elves left behind would be those who were too young to have seen the prior glory of the Irrinite village and who had been raised to the culture of Elvenesse.
What came in the aftermath was an incredibly powerful community. Many of the former Elvenessi rebranded themselves the Estel — or “Trusted” in the common tongue — and began to pursue a style of life not seen in the realm for many centuries.
The Estel began to wear more extravagant clothing and armor similar to that of Malinor. While many kept their tribal tattoos as reminders, many found peace in family titles and Houses once more. It did not matter what background you came from: high elf, wood elf, snow elf, dark elf, almenodrim. All who adopted the ways of the Estel were, themselves, Estel. An age of prosperity began from the ashes of Elvenesse and a new people had been born. The Estel reigned supreme.
A R C H I T E C T U R E
After the passing of the Irrinites, the Estel began to retreat back into their Citadel and docks. The new city became akin to one massive seed hall — an elven house for elven folk. Homes were created throughout the Citadel and dockyard and given to elves of import and duty. House halls were constructed and repurposed to the great seeds and clans: Taliame’onn, Valin’dar and Hawksong.
The new construction style borrowed much from both the Almenodrim and Irrinites, but it had become wholly new. Great gardens of wild trees and bushes sprouted alongside and enwrapped large buildings of stone and red paint. The Citadel became reminiscent of elven cities of old with its great towers and the Warden Keep. The gardens would bring envy to any Irrinite and the sprawling towers would sour any high elf’s mood.
Borrowing from the roots of the Citadel, the homes and settlements of the Estel would often be suspended atop large cliff sides and mountain tops. Gone were the days of underground mudhuts and burrows. The Estel were a proud folk and intended to share their abundance of beauty and pride high above the canopy.
F A S H I O N
The fashion of the Estel borrows heavily from the Almenodrim, but it incorporates a subtlety that was boasted by the Irrinites. Elves wear robes and armor that express elegance and grace. Lavish cloth and decorative sashes, belts and circlets bring a relaxed and cultivated appearance to all Estel . The long-lived elves use their clothing to reflect their mastery of crafts and arts.
For men, they are encouraged to wear robes that cover the majority of their bodies, but there are no restrictions on such. Males show their strength and dignity by carrying arms at their sides at all times and are ever-ready to strike and defend should the need arise. Boots have become prevalent, too, in the wake of the Almenodrim. As they spend most of their days meandering through stone halls, the need and desire for boots and other footwear became increasingly favorable.
For women, they are encouraged to wear lavish dresses and other decorations such as jewelry, circlets and sashes. Women, too, show strength by carrying weapons at their sides and joining their male counterparts in the defense and offense of their city.
The Estel are also often seen wearing lavish armors with great cloaks and sashes. They do not have a “warrior culture”, per say, but the elves of the southern woodlands are incredibly strong of will and might. They express this through their armors and weapons.
C U L T U R E
The Estel have a very distinct set of cultural practices and beliefs that set them apart from other elves. These are not religious practices, but simply traditions that bring pride and courage to the hearts of young Estel throughout the Citadel and abroad.
THE GREAT HOUSES
Spoiler
Similar to seeds, the Houses of the Estel are family units composed of like-minded elves with similar goals and beliefs. While some Houses continue to practice tribal tattoos, it is not a requirement for every House. The Three Great Houses are Hawksong, the Horselords of the Twilit Elves; Taliame’onn, the Natural Wonders of the Mali’ame; and Valin’dar, the Loyal Lords of the Dark Elves. These great houses work as smaller communities within the culture of the Estel. They hold their own creeds and ambitions, but all are loyal kin of the High Prince and the nation.
To join a Great House is no easy task. They hold their own rituals, trials and goals. To create a House is a difficult road filled with obstacles and rejection, but many elves of strong will are able to weather this tempest and create something of beauty from it. The Houses have this in common: greatness is born through trial and tribulation.
THE WILD FAITH
Spoiler
Despite their departure from wood elven societal norms, the Estel continue to actively practice the Wild Faith. The Aspects and Mani are sacred among all elven kin and are worshipped accordingly; however, the more tribalistic elements of the faith have become much more subdued in the development of the new state. As such, reliance on subtle prayer and hidden sites of worship has become more common. Faith has become much more of a state of being rather than something flaunted.
Festivals and ceremonies are abundant in this new society. Grand displays are frequently made to the Aspects and Mani through many avenues, but the over-reliance on sacrifice and wild practices has all but vanished. It is a more refined and intimate experience to pray to your respective Aspect or Mani.
RITES OF PASSAGE
Spoiler
When an Estel comes of age, they are given a grand task. The elf is charged with completing an incredibly difficult assignment to prove their worth as an elf of the culture. These trials can range from slaying a massive creature to finding a lost relic. The task is decided upon by the High Prince or the Prince-Heir at the ceremony celebrating the child’s ascent into adulthood. After the task is completed, the newly-made elf is given a new title to reflect the deed that was done. For example, an elf that completed their task of defeating a Cave Naga might be called Nagasbane or Lord of Serpents.
For the elves adopting this culture beyond their fiftieth birthday, they will take a name to remind them of a great deed or act they have done before. If none come to mind, they are encouraged to request such a task from the High Prince of Prince-Heir to prove themselves to their kin and to be ushered in as a true Estel.
ALL RANGERS. ALL SOLDIERS. ALL GUARDS.
Spoiler
The Wardens are the defenders of Elvenesse. Founded by Amaesil Vuln’miruel, these knightly soldiers work to uphold justice, parenthood, leadership, courage and duty; however, the Wardens are not the only defenders of the city. All Estel are expected to help in defending themselves, their families and their kin. If they do not join the Wardens they are considered to be citizen-soldiers to help in the direst of times.
An old saying is often utilized: “All rangers. All soldiers. All guards.” It is to exemplify the reliance on the courage and honor of your fellow elf in times of strife and danger. This belief is held strong by all Estel for all will fall if we flee.
E L V E S O F A N E W D A W N
The creation of the Estel was a necessity in maintaining the unity and might of the former Elvenessi. As such, the term “Estel” is not meant to describe a race; it is meant to describe a people. This united, visionary culture was not a combination of others, but an influenced act of care and simplicity.
Simplicity. That describes the Estel well. They are a community more than a nation and their influence will become well documented in the centuries to come. Their unity sprouted from similar goals rather than similar beliefs like the Irrinites and Almenodrim of old. This singular vision will allow the Estel to become independent and strong.
[OUT-OF-CHARACTER]
SpoilerThe Estel are a project I have been working on for quite some time. It is the basis for my character, Amaesil Vuln'miruel, and has slowly become a norm in our elven community. I thought it would be good to expand on some of the ideas we've been using in-game and give a name to it.
This is not intended to be a be-all-end-all post, either. This culture is simple, small and prone to change over time as more and more people adopt it and spread it within our community. Whatever this starts — be it a short fad or a long-term culture — I am excited to see what the future holds for our little community of elven roleplayers. If you have any ideas or want to join, toss me a DM.
Have a great day, folks!
Zilldude
18 -
Amaesil Vuln'miruel stands upon the cliffside and looks out across the burning dockyard. The fires reflect in his brown orbs and glints off of his silver armor. His long, blue robes billow in the wind as ash forms a long, winding spire into the stratosphere.
It is there that the elflord weeps silently. Justice had been dealt this day, but such never brought him any comfort.
Spoiler
10 -
Upon reading this news, Amaesil nodded once. "These Uruks came to our city the other elven day and attempted to mislead us. The Raguk died and the others fled. I am glad to see the slavers were caught by our neighbors in the Summer Sea."
1 -
Amaesil looks toward the island nation through his telescope. Even from the southern peninsula he could hear the drums of rebellion. "Peace in our t- wait, no."
5 -
The Lord Exarch reads the invitation with a warm grin. He writes a response and has a courier deliver it up the hillside to his brother.
Brother.
Of course I will attend. I am overjoyed at this news, brother, and I will bring with me enough Vuln'miruel blood to flood the venue. You are of the highest caliber of elf and so, too, is the woman you have come to make your bride. I look forward to the lineage established by Hawksong and I hope that our Houses will forever be entwined. I love you, Aerendyl.
HIS LORDSHIP, Amaesil Vuln'miruel, Lord Exarch and Estelaurir of Elvenesse
1 -
17 hours ago, Lhindir_ said:
Adreniel Elibar’acal finds some hint of amusement watching these two through his own , high elven telescope, wondering why they are cackling. Is it because they think some lowly human bandits would be able to extort them? No , of course not.. and so he wonders.
Feeling a tingle on his neck, the elflord slowly lowers the telescope and looks out toward the high elven radical.
Spoiler
4 -
Amaesil reads the declaration with a grim expression. As he reaches the end, a low sigh emits from his lips. He folds the letter and sets it down on the table beside himself. He gathers his cloak and makes way for the upper ramparts of the Citadel.
Once at the top, the elflord unfurls the high elven telescope and peers across the realm toward the distant island nation. His lips thin and he speaks softly to himself: "I pray my cousins learn sooner rather than later that their pursuit of war against Almaris will be met with immediate destruction. I will pray for their safety and eventual realization that they no longer represent anything more than an island nation on the far edges of the map.
8 -
Amaesil's eyes widen as he reads the declaration. "Oh. Oh."
3 -
Just now, Lhindir_ said:
A public letter is sent back, bearing the crest of the golden owl.
"To the 'Lord' Amaesil Vuln'murial.
Do you think that a man is to reason with the ant, that cries out underfoot? Does a tree rage against a storm, demanding a challenge? No.
I have come to your lands with a demand, to relinquish those impure who would dare reside your walls. Such a demand has always been made, for centuries. I will not stoop to your level, primitive. But I will return to your lands, and I will continue my blessed mission.
Maehr'sae Hilyun'ehya.
Adreniel Elibar'acal.
Amaesil reads the letter. An amused smile forms. "As expected. My son of twenty was too much for the leader of the extremists. I am a very proud father."
11 -
1 minute ago, grubgoth_wud said:
((why do you cringelords always get pvp fleep number 134 with throwaway character to fight on ur behalf instead of just doing it urself.
Spoiler
13 -
- Popular Post
- Popular Post
Adreniel Elibar’acal —
You marched to the woodlands with a rally of silvered thugs. You challenged us and declared war on our kin. You called us insects and affirmed your desire to slaughter all elves of our lands and beyond.
My valiant son, Malin Vuln’miruel, challenges you to single combat to the death. You will come to Elvenesse on an agreeable day with your legions of half-rate Ferrymen and fight in the sight of all like the proud mali’thill you say you are. Deny this challenge if you wish to demonstrate your cowardice. You have three elven days to respond.
Ame nae evareh.
HIS LORDSHIP, Amaesil Vuln'miruel, Lord Exarch of Elvenesse,
Estelaurir of Amaethea, High Warden of the Order and Lord of Kindle
OOC
SpoilerThis duel is to be PVP and have a PK clause if agreed to. If anyone mentioned has any questions, feel free to message me. This is all in good fun between the two groups!
42 -
Amaesil reads the rain-drenched missive underneath the cover of a lone set of trees. His noble steed stands at the edge of the shade and shakes its antlers toward the thundering heavens. The pair would be located on the side of a mountain somewhere in the northern peaks of Urguan.
"Perhaps not the best route, lari'onn," the elf muses to himself. He folds the missive and tucks it into his cloak. His eyes scan the northeastern horizon. With a flash of distant lightning the elflord would catch a glimpse of the floating city. A scowl forms.
5 -
Amaesil would stand in the upper tower of the citadel. Behind him rang bells in celebration of love and marriage. The smile and joy for his kin had faded upon hearing the declaration from far across the Summer Sea. He withdrew the Haelunorian spyglass that had been gifted to him by his mentor, Celiasil. He peered across the world.
8 -
“Shame.”
It was the first word uttered by Amaesil as he came into the Silver City. His armor flashed in the winter sun and his breath formed a cloud beneath his lips. “Shame on the High Elves of Haelun’or for such barbarity. Shame!”
The mali’thill looked bewildered. “They were ‘ata filth,” they said incredulously. Behind them another high elf was dragging the broken, burnt corpses. A long smear of ash trailed behind the cadavers of the two Elvenessi. A fury overcame Amaesil.
“THEY WERE COUNCILLORS OF ELVENESSE!” he roared and stepped forward. The high elves were undaunted by the sudden aggression of the wood elven lord. They simply stood and sniggered at him. What did they have to fear? “... Councillors of Elvenesse.” The elflord’s voice was much quieter, but the rage had not subsided. He glared forward at the congregation of high elves before spitting at their feet. “You all disgust me. You are shadows of your former selves and violent beasts of the Abyss. Rot.”
Accompanied by a host of laughs and taunts, the elflord sailed from Haelun’or. No rest was had in the Woodland Princedom that evening.
Spoiler19 -
1 minute ago, BobBox said:
Elren looked at the two empty glasses that he had just served the pair. He idly awaited them to return for their refills, like they said they would... sadly no such day would come.
Spoiler
6 -
Spoiler
"I am sorry, Lemon! I will remember you we—"
Pain. Unending, blissful pain. The elf known as Kina'ir crumpled to the rain-flooded gutter beside the main pathway; the front gates of the Silver City glistened behind him. His mind was a whirl of thoughts and feelings; however, it mostly felt cold. This was, frankly, due to half of his brain having erupted from his front visor when the bolt entered through the back of his helmet.
No, No! He thought in his final moments. This is not how it ends! I finally found a way to kill without having to hang corpses up in that Elvenessi basement. The elf growled, but it was mostly involuntary from the blood and vomit rising up through his throat and spilling out in a thick puddle around his helmet. I was to be famous! FAMOUS!
Yet he would not be. The bandit known as Lime left behind his brother-in-arms Lemon. Perhaps they would find one another in whatever hell the Rustlers belonged to. He hoped it would be warm, painful and full of the punishment he rightfully deserved. So many women had died by his hand and the Elvenessi had never caught him. The Haelun'orian cat-man had been his folly — good grief!
With his last few moments of life, the one-day bandit faded away with a twisted grin on his face. A monster was taken out of this world and Ri'Haskir'Kul had done the realm a great service this day.
Lime was dead.
SpoilerPRESS "F" TO PAY RESPECTS
22 -
The elflord stood atop his towering keep above the Hinterlands. The trees bristled and the sun shone brightly across the land. In the courtyard, Wardens trained and laughed in the autumn breeze. Wrapped in his robes and high above the great and loving nation he called his own...
... Amaesil wept.
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The TWRP in the signature is what sold me. +1
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AUDIOBOOKS
Amaesil Vuln'miruel is a lord of the elves. He has embarked on a great journey into the unknown edges of the east...
The ISLAND of FIRE
SpoilerSONG FOR a KING
SpoilerBEYOND SEAS and HEAVENS
Spoiler3 -
The HIGH TALES of the FOXHOLE
Documented by Terrance Handyfellow
On the 12th of Malin’s Welcome, 33 SA, the crimson sails of the Foxhole were seen cresting the eastern horizon. The sun was sinking in the west and the sky burned. A crowd of elves gathered at the docks of Amathea to welcome home the elf who captained this vessel: Amaesil Vuln’miruel.
The ship approached the seawall and docked. The elflord exited the vessel and embraced his kin. He spoke little. He was infatuated with what he had missed in his homeland during his journey; however, the elf was not the only one to depart the Foxhole.
A cheery-looking halfling named Terrance Handyfellow disembarked with a lute in one hand and a notebook in the other. He and Amaesil shared quiet words with one another, a kiss to each other's forehead and a sorrowful farewell. It was not long before Terrance Handyfellow, a storyteller and bard-to-be, began speaking loud and long in the taverns of Almaris. His stories were of heroism, ingenuity and the strange world that lay just east of Almaris. They were the High Tales of the Foxhole…
The ISLAND of FIRE
SpoilerFar to the southeast of Almaris there lay an island wreathed in smoke and flame. Its name is nor’igne and it is home to the bortu’igne — the fire dwarves. These dwarves (much like their cousins of Urguan) are short of stature and masters of the forge. Their skin is soot-black and they wear crowns enveloped in flames that lick snow-white hair. Around nor’igne is a bubbling sea — the tennallar’ilum. The waters here are so hot that the wooden hulls of ships melt like fresh-fallen snow. The intense heat from underneath the wake causes the sea to glow a white-hot prismarine at all times of the day. It is due to the tennallar’ilum that the Foxhole found itself marooned.
Amaesil Vuln’miruel, estelaurir of the elves, disembarked from his ship and surveyed the damage. The hull was melted from the bow to the central mast. The craft would not be able to leave the island until repairs were made and it was able to withstand the heat. With his objective in-mind, Amaesil wandered into the forests of the island until he came upon a stronghold of the fire dwarves.
“Lo, who walks unseen through our forests?” the fire dwarves called out in one voice.
“A stranger, but not a foe,” Amaesil replied. “I am of a land far to the west and have become voluntarily linked to the fate of my vessel which lies half-dismantled on your shore. I ask for your aid, master dwarves.”
The bortu’igne shook their heads. “We do not abide those foolish enough to become marooned on our shores. If you desire our succor, you must prove yourself. Make yours the fire-horse of the north — the Nightmare!”
Amaesil ventured north from the dwarven fortress. A full day passed as he communed with the natural beasts and plants of the island. They were unlike any the druid had ever spoken with before. They did not grow despite their conditions, but they thrived in them. It was with the aid of the beasts that he soon learned of a glade of ash to the north. It was there that the elflord spotted the famed Nightmare. The beast was the size of a Clydesdale and had a mane of orange flame. It stomped around the glade and ignited any plant that dared to grow in its realm. If not for the mane, the Nightmare’s black skin would have made it impossible to spot in the soot-covered landscape. Amaesil spent two hours observing the creature from the edge of the clearing before he wrapped himself in soot and crawled across the expanse of dead underbrush.
At midnight, Amaesil came to lay in the middle of the field. It was not long before the Nightmare spotted him and came to his side. “You are foolish to come into my domain, creature,” the Nightmare said. “You must burn as all things do.”
“You are mistaken,” Amaesil responded quickly. He gestured to his soot-covered body. “You have already burned me, humble steed, and I have survived. To challenge my power would make you the fool: not me!”
The Nightmare pondered this for some time before it neighed out a jet of flame into the air. “You speak true, stranger, for you are as dark as my fields. What is it you come into my domain for, that-which-is-burnt-but-not-broken?”
“You see I can perish, but not by flame. The bortu’igne of the south sent me to tame a wild beast, O’ King of Ash. You, however, are no wild thing. I ask you, noble steed, to accompany me south by your own free will.”
“I will do this, stranger, for you have dignified me and named me King. I will travel with you.”
The next day, Amaesil returned to the dwarven fortress atop the nightmare. The fire dwarves were astonished and soon came out to greet the elflord. Amaesil spoke thus: “I have completed your task, but you must pay honors as I did. Bring forth a crown of ash for the great King.” The fire dwarves complied and soon the nightmare, too, had a black crown of soot and flame. It galloped northward to rule over its domain once more.
Amaesil spent the next month within the fortress. The fire dwarves had built this stronghold after they had been pushed out of their great city underneath the mountains: the Brass City. The underground metropolis had become impossible to enter due to the presence of the Wailing Woman, an eldritch abomination from the Old World. Her gaze alone would break the will of the strongest warriors. Due to the charity of the fire dwarves in repairing his vessel, Amaesil granted them one final act of repayment — he would slay the Wailing Woman.
The elflord departed the next day for the mountains of nor’igne. It was on the fifth day that Amaesil came to the base of the mountains where he found a cave wrapped in shadow. He set his campsite and waited for dusk. As the starlight began to illuminate the island, the Wailing Woman trudged forth from her abyssal cavern. She was wrapped in the dark skin of the bortu’igne she had slain and her face was a hollowed, elongated mess of grey skin.
Amaesil and the Wailing Woman did battle from dusk to dawn. As the sun threatened to pierce the horizon, the creature fled back into her cave. Two more days passed. From dusk to dawn, Amaesil did battle with the fiend until she fled. On the fourth day, Amaesil was graced with divine insight. He spoke softly to the trees of the forest and asked them to make dark the area beyond the creature’s cave hole. At noon, the clearing was as dark as midnight.
The Wailing Woman charged out of the cave and met Amaesil in combat once more; however, the trees soon retreated and allowed the sunlight to flood the clearing with bright, golden light. The Wailing Woman gave a howl and her chest was soon pierced by Amaelaurir, the star-steel longsword of the elflord. With a final death rattle, she was defeated.
Amaesil returned to the fire dwarves and declared: “It is done.” The fire dwarves cheered and soon began to return to their Brass City. Amaesil, despite his valor, was not permitted to visit the city; although, this did not bother him. He returned to the Foxhole to find his sailboat repaired with glistening, white wood. He set sail from the island and crossed into the tennallar’ilum. The heat was intense, but the material that the bortu’igne used to replace the hull held firm. As he exited the black smoke that surrounded the island, he found himself back on the eastern seas on a clear day. He turned his ship and continued eastward into the strange unknown edges of the world.
SONG FOR the KING
SpoilerFar to the east — well beyond the Great Maelstrom and the Red Leviathan — there lies the kingdom of Bayfallow. This great kingdom has stood for hundreds of years and is entirely populated by halflings. Unlike their counterparts in Almaris, the halfmen of Bayfallow took on the heritage and culture of the human nations that preceded them: lords, knights and, of course, a king.
It was many months into his voyage that Amaesil Vuln’miruel docked in Bayfallow Harbor. The Foxhole was scratched and charred, but it remained intact. Upon departing his vessel, a congregation of halflings greeted the elf. He was given simple trinkets and food by the common folk who had (until this very moment) never seen or heard of the elves. His arrival was soon reported to the king who sent an envoy to retrieve Amaesil and bring him to the keep. Amaesil walked the gravel streets of Bayfallow accompanied by a wave of halfmen who followed behind him like newborn ducklings toddling after their mother. The crowd soon arrived at the keep and the elf was ushered into the Great Hall.
“Hullo! Welcome to Bayfallow,” The king greeted. “You are a stranger here in more than just acquaintance, tall-man. Where do you hail from?”
“Far to the west,” Amaesil answered. “I am lord of a far-off realm known as Elvenesse. It is there that my kin reign. We are elves, Your Majesty. My kin are unlike your own peoples; as distinct as myself among you all now. We are fair, tall and burdened with endless life. Our words are a chorus and our songs are a symphony. Nowhere in this world will you find a fairer and braver people.”
“Sing me this chorus, then, elflord,” the king demanded.
Amaesil nodded and began to sing:
The woodland song of nature’s grace
Plays through all They grant.
The creek of water; the leaves of Fall,
Yet none will compare.A midnight song shared under stars
Of all who look upon us now.
Bard of good, bard of grey
Sing the song of yours.The elflord continued to sing a melody so sweet, cold and sorrowful that it brought tears to the halfmen. Men, women and children wept at the tale of the elves. The king — who considered himself a musician — became transfixed by this melody. At the conclusion of the song, the king spoke: “Your people have a beauty unlike any here in Bayfallow. To the northwest there lies a garden. It is a sacred place to us, but we believe you will feel most at-home within its borders. Stay as long as you require, master elf.” Thanks were given and a celebration was had by many. Not all, though, celebrated the elflord’s song.
Outside the borders of Bayfallow lived a creature wrapped in blackness. This knightly creature hated all things beautiful and fair; and the song had enraged him. The Blackstone growled in his cavernous halls deep within the Ashen Peaks. Whatever had brought this newfound splendor to his realm would pay the price.
The next day, Amaesil was strolling through the gardens that the king had granted him permission to roam. As he walked, he sang. The melody echoed across the woodlands and filled the trees with vigor. While roving, the elflord found a shaded nook beneath a fallen oak tree. It was there that he rested and slept for a time. During his slumber, the Blackstone edged across the gardens and wilted all that he passed. Coming to the sleeping elf, he plunged his cursed weapon deep into Amaesil's chest and pinned him to the ground. No pain was felt by Amaesil and a smile stained his lips. Vines grew around the sword. Satisfied, the Blackstone turned and returned to its halls of shadow.
It took a week before Amaesil’s body was found. The king was summoned and he came to rest at the side of the fallen elf. Tears were shed and a great gathering of halflings entered the gardens. None dared to move the elf’s body.
Overcome with sorrow, the king parted his lips and began to sing:
The woodland song of nature’s grace
Plays through all our hearts.
The love of song; the death of kin,
Yet tears that sting arrive.A final song shared under stars
Of He who looks upon us now.
Elf of good, elf of red
Hear this song of yours.With the song renewed, a new rage filled the Blackstone. He charged down from his mountain home and crashed through the garden until he found the gathering of half-folk. “WHO ARE YOU WHO RENEWS WHAT I’VE DESTROYED?” the Blackstone boomed.
“A grieving king,” the halfling responded. “You took from this world beauty that we as halflings may never see again. Bring back this elf-man and you may have from us anything you desire.”
The Blackstone paused. Then, it said: “THIS GARDEN WILL ROT AND BE UNCARED FOR HENCEFORTH. YOUR MAJESTY SHALL LEAVE THE THRONE TO YOUR SON AND LEAVE THIS LAND ALONGSIDE THIS ELF-MAN.”
With a somber heart, the king agreed. The Blackstone reached forth and drew the sword from Amaesil’s chest. No wound remained, but a jagged scar would forever adorn the elf’s body. The halfmen gathered the elf and departed the garden as instructed by the Blackstone. Content, the dark creature returned to its lair.
One month later, the elf awakened. He had memories that were not his own. To Amaesil, a lifetime had passed him by in his slumber. With the memory of the elf saved and the people of Bayfallow content, both the elflord and the halfling-king boarded the Foxhole and set sail north. The king took on his true name — Terrance Handyfellow — and served as the elflord’s companion. It is said that years after the Blackstone faded away into the shadows, the garden regrew and the son of the king became a great king in his own right!
BEYOND SEAS and HEAVENS
SpoilerThe elves of Celestine are a superstitious race. They are the last great city before the northern oceans become trapped between the sun and the moon — the Sea of Twilight. It is said that any ship that finds itself drifting in this sea at dusk will be trapped. Should the morning sun shine upon any lost vessel in this stretch of water, it will become lost to the heavens for eternity.
The warnings were given to Amaesil Vuln’miruel and Terrance Handyfellow, too, but they had to take the risk. The Lizard Lords of Sanctum had entrusted to the members of the Foxhole the last egg of summer. If they failed to deliver the newborn cocoon to the Priestesses in the northlands before summer’s end, the lizardfolk would lose a generation. Summer was coming to its natural conclusion and the Foxhole had only arrived at noon the day of. They had to brave the sea.
The waters were harsh and a storm arrived from the northeast. Waves crashed into the side of the Foxhole and nearly sent Terrance somersaulting into the sea. As the sun began to set behind the clouds, a sudden stillness came to the water. As the elflord and halfling recovered, they soon found themselves drifting through an endless expanse of stars.
“What madness is this?” Terrance asked. “I cannot tell where the ocean ends and the night sky begins!”
“I fear that there is no edge,” Amaesil answered. The elf looked over the edge of his craft and saw a drifting, endless abyss of twinkling starlight. With a deft hand, he reached down and plucked a handful of the glittering stars and placed them into a leather pouch tied around his sword belt. The pair had entered into the Sea of Stars. Far below them was the faint outline of the world that had been left behind; far ahead lay their only salvation: sunrise. If the Foxhole and its crew could successfully navigate the sea and reach the northlands before sunrise, they would be free. If not, they would be lost to the beyond.
The two companions began to skim silently through the heavens above. Terrance dared not sing and Amaesil could hardly breathe. After a few hours, the crew had become confused. They were deep within the stars and the notion of being guided from above was folly. The two contemplated for a long while in their disorientation. Then, an idea came to mind.
“By the Light and Aspects, bring us to the Lands of the Living!” With this chant, Amaesil unsheathed Amaelaurir, the Will of Amaethon. The star-steel longsword forged by Fëanor Sylvaeri shone brightest in the heavens! A beam of crystal moonlight illuminated the sky and guided the wayward sailors northward toward their goal. To those of Almaris, a great comet of sapphire appeared in the night sky that evening.
After many more hours, a long shape appeared in the distance. Terrance leapt with joy at having overcome the darkness, but Amaesil was fearful and contemplative. The pair soon gazed upon a great bridge of pearls. It stretched far to the east and west; no ends in sight. Beneath the bridge rested a great troll of silver and grey. It looked down toward the Foxhole and spoke in a booming voice:
“FOR WHAT PURPOSE DO YOU SEEK PASSAGE UNDER MY BRIDGE?”
“To outrun the morning light,” Amaesil answered. His voice quaked with fear as he saw orange to the east. “If I may ask, troll, what is it that crosses your bridge?”
“TO EXPLAIN IT, ELF, WOULD MEAN FOUR SUNRISES AT THE LEAST. TO CROSS MY BRIDGE FROM THE UNDERSIDE, HOWEVER, IS PERMITTED SHOULD YOU ANSWER MY RIDDLE: IT BURNS WITHOUT HEAT AND SMOKES WITHOUT FIRE. FEEL IT TOO LONG AND YOUR TIME BECOMES DIRE.”
The elflord was lost for words, but Terrance had spent his childhood playing riddles with his kin. “The cold!” the halfling explained triumphantly. The troll grinned and waved his arms along. The Foxhole glided past the bridge and continued toward the northland shore. As sunrise began to crest on the horizon, the ship was suddenly rocked by a heavy scrapping. Looking overboard, the two companions were amazed to see sand!
The sun warmed their cheeks as they sat on the beaches of the northland. Overhead a falling star graced the sky. “You must teach me more of those riddles on the voyage west, llir,” Amaesil said before falling asleep to the sound of the sea.
OOC
SpoilerThis is a collection of anthological tales written by a character named Terrance Handyfellow! I want to make certain that one thing is clear: TERRANCE IS NOT A RELIABLE NARRATOR.
These stories are meant to be mythological tales for the elves that are originally told by a halfling who journeyed with my character, Amaesil Vuln'miruel, on his boat journey. I wrote these short stories while bored on vacation and I thought you may all enjoy them. I won't assert that anything in these stories is canon, but damn would some of this **** be pretty neat.
That is all. Enjoy the reading!
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Amaesil looks out to the western forests from atop his keep. The sun would hang high in the sky and a breeze rakes through the treetops. It was unlikely, but the elf swore that the horizon was grim and hollow in appearance. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.
"... So be it."
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A new media team, you say?
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THE WARNATION DISMANTLED
in Almaris RP Archive
Posted
Prince Amaesil Vuln'miruel looks out to the west from atop the citadel. He holds the parchment in his hands before speaking long-winded wisdom: "Neat."