The War Begins; The Elven War, The Disciple of Death, and the Discovery of the Four Bane

The War Begins

The elves no longer called themselves Golden, the Ar`Quessir, for they had no Silver elves to compare themselves to. Instead they were the Light Elves, Me`a`Quessir, standing in ranks against the equally sized Dark Elves, Mori`Quessir. Horns blared from both sides as multi-colored House flags waved in the breeze.

The Dark Elven general, with his jet-black hair nearly covering the whole of his face, rode forward across the verdant field on his black stallion plated with silver. He had named himself Tsabdorl, which in their new language meant "Warrior of the Abyss." Few ever called him by his original name.

In the old tongue the Light Elven general addressed him and gave a slight bow with his blond head. "Aaye, nae saian luume, Nikerym Thadeth."

General Tsabdorl scoffed. "Wael," he muttered, calling the other general a fool in his own tongue. The other glared at him suspiciously. Switching back to the old tongue, General Tsabdorl smiled bitterly and chided, "Donehel naa lost, General Caliat. Sina naa keryth en cornehal, n`lye. Our Val'sharess is only defending her people."

"Val'sharess? You speak a strange tongue, old friend," said the blond elf, ignoring the insult.

"You will perish in this fight. Lle rangwa amin?" General Tsabdorl, formerly Captain Thadeth to the Silver infantry, spoke condescendingly. He held out his hand to shake the other general's hand.

"I'quelin Mori`Quessir naa ba Mori`Quessir," General Caliat replied darkly. He moved as if to shake Tsabdorl's hand but hesitated, remembering the Taint.

"You will regret that dearly. Quel esta aul i`rudh erek."

"Namaarie."

The opposite, black and white horses, Light and Dark elves rode back to their ranks.

General Tsabdorl directed his horse around. He placed his silver helmet on his head roughly with a gloved hand. He grimaced beneath it, his red eyes shining as he recalled the other general, one who would never be enlightened to his people's existence.

The Dark Elves raised their weapons in a fierce cry. For all they had been through, for all they knew their goddess had become. "Nesh Nwalmaer!" they cried in the old tongue.

The horses stirred on both sides. The white and brown horses with streaming manes were preferred by the Light Elves. The Dark Elves chose to breed black and grey horses.

The echo of the large chorus faded and the emptiness stretched between the two factions.

Then the general of the Light army, adorned with gold and white armor raised his sword.

"Nesh Orn`Anoron!" he called, and his army followed quickly, repeating his call for the Tree of Dawn. Archers, cavalry, and foot soldiers all wearing variations of gold, yellow, white, and green raised their weapons and cried. Even the female healers in the back of the ranks raised their staves in the cry.


*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*

All in old tongue unless noted:
DE - Dark elven tongue

Aaye, nae saian luume, Nikerym Thadeth. = Hail, it has been too long, Captain Thadeth.
Wael = Fool (DE)
Donehel naa lost, General Caliat. Sina naa keryth en cornehal, n`lye= Your head is empty, General Caliat. This is your king's war, not ours.
Val'sharess = Queen (DE)
Lle rangwa amin? = You understand me? ['lle' used instead of formal 'nehel']
I'quelin Mori`Quessir naa ba Mori`Quessir = The best Dark Elf is a dead Dark Elf
Quel esta aul i`rudh erek = Rest well in the barren earth
Namaarie = Farewell
Nesh Nwalmaer! = For the Tormented One!
Nesh Orn`Anoron! = For the Tree of Dawn!



The Elven War, the Disciple of Death, and the Discovery of The Four Bane

The battle raged head-on for days until the Mori`Quessir gained an upper hand and the Light elves retreated. All the techniques and strategies used were the same on both sides except for one major detail: the Dark Elves, over decades of experimentation, had gained the use of dark magic. They brought into battle spells unknown to the Me`a`Quessir, those that drew strength from enemies and summoned forth minor demons. There was one Dark elf, however, who knew something so vile, that it baffled even General Caliat. No experienced fighter had ever seen a fallen comrade rise to fight against him.

The subject of necromancy was unheard of to the Light, and fairly new to the Dark Elves. But in their search for power, their search for dominance, they learned the deepest evils of the Abyss. So far had they sought into the darkness that the Four Bane had responded gladly. Never before had any race realized or heard of the Four Bane. Now, though, the Mori`Quessir understood fully how their goddess was trapped beneath the mortal world. Their goddess was an honest one and explained her four estranged siblings, who had been rejected long before herself. She expressed her hatred for them, but her elves were inclined to draw power from them. They named them in the Mori`Quessir tongue, Quen Verin. It was Antraen, the first master of necromancy, who made a deal with them. Honoring still his goddess, he performed dark rituals to gain knowledge of the Four.

Antraen, a dark elf with pasty white hair and robes of black and red, was barely noticed behind the raining of spells and arrows until he raised his long wooden staff, topped with a black gem. His hand coiled into a claw as he pointed at a fallen Light soldier. Green and black encircled him as he uttered words even his fellow warlocks did not comprehend, but one day he would teach them, introduce them to the Quen Verin and the death magic he performed. The soldier was lifted up as if a string were attached to his chest. The remains of it rose, an arrow and a sword's gash fully visible on its body. Several Me`a`Quessir turned to stare, their weapons still held in the air. With a flick of Antraen's own clawed hand, the undead soldier drew its weapon, and before anyone had time to take notice, he stabbed another Light elf square through the armor on his chest. Antraen, standing many feet behind, closed his eyes and let his hand drop. The undead followed his motion and fell to the bloodied earth. The necromancer grinned as he rose his hand again and the fresh body of the stabbed soldier likewise rose to turn on the living.

Antraen, known as the Disciple of Death, did this continually, only stopping when absolutely drained of energy. Witnesses informed others and the appalled General Caliat. He in turn sent a message to their king, who was just as amazed to learn of a darker side to the world they had inhabited for millennia.

"We must find a way to counteract these vile attacks," General Caliat spoke to his wizards and healers as he paced his tent wearily. "It has come to our attention that there is some evil god - gods, maybe - giving the Mori`Quessir power. They take our strength, they summon monsters, and they raise our dead."

It did not take long research for the elven wizards to find evidence of four godchildren of the great Iva`na and Nav`ean who were trapped far below mortal lands. Much overlooked mythology remained in old scrolls with inches of dust upon them. It was then they realized why the moon goddess had transformed in the first place. These gods, if ever unleashed, could cause the breaking of a race, or worse, a world.