Perhaps the greatest tragedy to befall the Race of the Elves is not their descent from Overworld or the factioning of their Race. To the Callasine, the Silver Elves of Callas Selvarion, the worst of all ills is the irreparable injury to their histories: The aeon obelisks that held the memories of the Elven civilization were destroyed along with the first Silver Elf city in the War of the Black Gate. The new city was built, shaped and veiled by magic – but it was named for the sin that led to the destruction of the first: “Callas Selvarion” or in Ark-tongue: “the Price of Pride”. With the aeon obelisks lost, all that remains to the Callasine are written word and haunting song.
Until the rebirth of the Sun Empire and the return of Elven supremacy, it shall have to be enough.
The Descent of the Archons
In Overworld above did dwell
the Gods of olde as legends tell
and to their children held most dear
these words were told, their ears did hear.
“Blessed slaves and cherished thralls,
we send you forth from hallowed halls
to a place both sacred and accurs’d
to ward it from daemon, beast and worse.
The task is fraught with perils fell
and fates await as dire as hells.
To Midworld sent from Realms above
to guard it in this Trust of love”
Corporeal form did these Elves donn
of bone and skin and passions strong
their spirits veiled in mind and flesh
the Trust they bore was put to test
In thraine the Elven host was cleaved
Three kings arose and wished to lead
their folk across the truest road,
fulfilling thus their given role.
Solarian wish’d to raise a keep
across the seas so wild and deep.
This risen state would then stand guard,
hold safe and sound the World it wards.
Shaedis wish’d to shape a hold
of magics dark and strong and bold
She used fell spells to guard the land
while never showing her shadowy hand.
Verdis wish’d to plant an oak
and fill it with his sylvan folk.
From its roots, the Trust performed
and thus their guardianship was borne.
Tragedy did not await
it struck the Race with quicken’d gait.
Tattered bonds were rent and shorn
whilst distrust grew into a war.
The War of Sun and Twilight
Shaedis wrought an Empire great
which shivered lands with shadowed weight
March did they their darksome hosts
and broke the back of Verdis’ folk.
With trees aflame behind their force,
they sailed ‘cross seas and marched to war
with Solarian and his city bright
and drown in depths their sacred lights.
But Shaedis’ plans were all undone
by Solarian’s Empire of the Sun.
By lance and light was Twilight spurned
Their greatest Lords to cinders burned.
Solarian’s Elves brought arms and spells
to the Twilight sunken citadel
to end at last Her shadowy reign
And burn to ash what she had made.
When cleared the smoke of desperate war,
the land itself was scarred and marred;
but good at least was done that day
for none could find where Shaedis laid.
Of her citadel there was no sign
nor of her wards and spells malign
Whilst her folk were scattered, lost,
and to the four winds they were toss’d.
Of Verdis and of his folk.
was there neither sign nor hope.
They retreated to wood and to wild
much alike their kin reviled.
Where once were three, stood only one:
the blessed Empire of the Sun,
which a darksome curse did fade
‘till none recalled where it had laid.
Its mythic isle now to us lost
its secret was the dearest cost
of Pride among those Elvenkind
that would become the Callasine.
The fall of the City of Selvaras
Sent from the Empire of the Sun
were greatest daughters and greatest sons
To watch over the sacred Trust
‘till world itself would fall from rust.
They raised a citadel in the west
These “the children of the best”
did weave their spells so brilliant, bright
that made their home a wond’rous sight.
This new city was as star to Sun,
a youngling boy and a prideful son.
It filled its streets with light and sound
but knew too late that its sire had drowned.
Then came the ages fell and dark
when beasts and daemons saw their mark.
This vengeance wrought by Twilight’s shade
to rend and tear and break and fade.
Selvaras tried to fight this curse
with hallowed might and argent force.
But salvation was an effort vain:
sounds were silenced, lights were shamed.
The daemons tore out stem and root,
while pillaging for slaves and loot.
Even the stones had scarce remained
and none now know where they had lain.
Less than twelve score Elves survived.
They learned too well of folly and pride.
They swore to seek the darksome horde
to give their foemen just reward.
Thus they sowed their seeds of lore
Elves taught Men the arts of war
and magics that were once kept close
were given freely without woe.
The stalwart Dwarves were given gifts
to mend a tired, ancient rift.
They took and kept these relics dear
and marched to battle without fear.
The City and the Gate
The desperate host had charged the horde
of daemons with spell and axe and sword.
Though Man and Dwarf and Elf were slain,
the costliest price had yet been paid.
Arvas the Elder, King of Elves,
fell beneath a treacherous spell
sent from his own faithless son
to win before the battle’s won.
‘Tis said the gods themselves returned
to the Midworld they had spurned,
though they stayed a moment’s half
their mark did for-the-ever last.
The faithless son was slain in turn;
by own beloved was he burned.
Her form was wrought as though of light
and upon the field she shone so bright.
Elf and Man and Dwarf she led
A shining star above their heads
that Daemon feared and Beast did flee
for with that light they could not see.
The Daemons withered before Her Grace
and Beasts turned tail before Her face.
The shadowed host was shattered clear
by blistering light that burned and seared.
They rushed back to the fellsworn Gate
and thus did they their terror slake
And Her Radiance bound it through and through
With wards and sigils and prayers true.
Elven veils obscured these lands
beside Elven steel and Elven hands.
Around this Gate she raised a wall
to stand until the gods shall fall
For only then will Elves forget
what sinful pride will oft beget.
Thus it stands before you yon:
our city, Callas Selvarion.