The_gladiator
Avatar of Fantasy
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2007
- Posts
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The space between
By Glad and Uggg
The space between was the proverbial no man’s land that existed outside the control of both the elves and the humans. Long ago it was land that had been fought over, both peoples claiming it at one time or another. That was before the dark time and the orcs, goblins, Ogres and trolls had united. Drawn together under one banner by the machinations of the Drow from the underworld, and a few of the ancient chromatic dragons, those wyrmes of pure evil. Such times had drawn humankind and elvenkin together, forces that had driven the host from the space between.
Now there was an uneasy truce between both the elves and humans, and they kept the space between as neutral territory. In practice this meant that those who weren’t accepted by society for one reason or another flocked to, or were forced to inhabit these lands. It was a haven for half elves, loners and at least one exile. This was the place of the dark elves. Not dark elves as in drow, but the elves that did things that polite elven society saw as unforgiveable, and deemed worthy of exile. Most were exiled for dabbling in dark magic, murdering others, or for having sexual appetites that the community could not tolerate. This latter was pretty rare, because as far as peoples went, the elves were fairly sexually liberal.
According to elven law, Valenthel. Vale, or Val, to friends, was exiled for the first of these reasons. He was suspected of the second, but no one had been able to make the murder charge stick. Dark magic was not something that Val would deny, though. It was his assertion that the council of elders failed to consider context, refused to hear his reasons. At the time, Val believed the end justified the means. The council disagreed and He was exiled.
His magic had helped coax the trees into a small home up in the branches. Valenthel sat cross-legged in the grass hands steadily carving the wand that would accept his magic. This piece of wood spoke to him and he knew that this wand would store spells of lightning. Its zigzag shape was perfect. Not always did the magic item identify what sort of magic it held merely by its shape, some were much more subtle and it would take a skilled practitioner to identify the nature of the magic within. However this one would show clearly what magic it stored.
Such magic items were prized by the militaries of both human and elven peoples. Such a wand could allow a non-magic user with the command word to cast magical spells. Forging the items was one way that Valenthel made his living. He sold them in exchange for supplies nature could not provide him to the elven emissary that came 4 times a year. He sold much more freely to the humans, some of which were even brave enough to come visit him. No elf save the emissary would come visit, and even that ambassador of sorts would have as little contact with him as possible. For someone whose people were highly social, this was torture. They might believe exile was more humane than execution, but Valenthel would strongly disagree.
So infrequent were his visitors that he was surprised when his keen hearing picked up the sound of soft boots on the trail. The steps were if he guessed correctly those of a human. They were too noisy to be any self-respecting elf. They were light though, not the heavy clomps of his typical male visitor. Surely it could not be a female, or child? He had had children come to visit him a time or two over the years he’d been there, the brave ones investigating the rumors of a monster living in the trees. He had avoided them in those cases, not wanting the humans or half elves that lived in the space between to start a witch hunt. Though outside the rule of law of both human and elven land, that did not mean that there weren’t rules of the wilderness, jungle justice, if you will.
The slender elf came smoothly to his feet. His black robes matching the hair that trailed down his back. He had once worn the white robes favored by the “good” mages of the elves, and he had also once worn the green robes of the elven military. They had given him the black robes upon exiling him. He could have worn any color he wanted now that he was on his own, but now he wore them as a statement, the proverbial middle finger to a society that he saw as turning their back on him. Piercing green eyes swept his surroundings, visually looking for a sign that might confirm what his ears told him, he would soon have a visitor. The wand disappeared into a fold of the robe, and even the long fingered hands disappeared, lithe grace hidden behind folds of dark material. The paleness of his skin contrasted with the dark of his hair and the robes he wore. He stood like that, just waiting, filled with the confidence that he could handle whatever came his way. Only time would tell if he was right, though he could not in that moment know how his life was about to change.
By Glad and Uggg
The space between was the proverbial no man’s land that existed outside the control of both the elves and the humans. Long ago it was land that had been fought over, both peoples claiming it at one time or another. That was before the dark time and the orcs, goblins, Ogres and trolls had united. Drawn together under one banner by the machinations of the Drow from the underworld, and a few of the ancient chromatic dragons, those wyrmes of pure evil. Such times had drawn humankind and elvenkin together, forces that had driven the host from the space between.
Now there was an uneasy truce between both the elves and humans, and they kept the space between as neutral territory. In practice this meant that those who weren’t accepted by society for one reason or another flocked to, or were forced to inhabit these lands. It was a haven for half elves, loners and at least one exile. This was the place of the dark elves. Not dark elves as in drow, but the elves that did things that polite elven society saw as unforgiveable, and deemed worthy of exile. Most were exiled for dabbling in dark magic, murdering others, or for having sexual appetites that the community could not tolerate. This latter was pretty rare, because as far as peoples went, the elves were fairly sexually liberal.
According to elven law, Valenthel. Vale, or Val, to friends, was exiled for the first of these reasons. He was suspected of the second, but no one had been able to make the murder charge stick. Dark magic was not something that Val would deny, though. It was his assertion that the council of elders failed to consider context, refused to hear his reasons. At the time, Val believed the end justified the means. The council disagreed and He was exiled.
His magic had helped coax the trees into a small home up in the branches. Valenthel sat cross-legged in the grass hands steadily carving the wand that would accept his magic. This piece of wood spoke to him and he knew that this wand would store spells of lightning. Its zigzag shape was perfect. Not always did the magic item identify what sort of magic it held merely by its shape, some were much more subtle and it would take a skilled practitioner to identify the nature of the magic within. However this one would show clearly what magic it stored.
Such magic items were prized by the militaries of both human and elven peoples. Such a wand could allow a non-magic user with the command word to cast magical spells. Forging the items was one way that Valenthel made his living. He sold them in exchange for supplies nature could not provide him to the elven emissary that came 4 times a year. He sold much more freely to the humans, some of which were even brave enough to come visit him. No elf save the emissary would come visit, and even that ambassador of sorts would have as little contact with him as possible. For someone whose people were highly social, this was torture. They might believe exile was more humane than execution, but Valenthel would strongly disagree.
So infrequent were his visitors that he was surprised when his keen hearing picked up the sound of soft boots on the trail. The steps were if he guessed correctly those of a human. They were too noisy to be any self-respecting elf. They were light though, not the heavy clomps of his typical male visitor. Surely it could not be a female, or child? He had had children come to visit him a time or two over the years he’d been there, the brave ones investigating the rumors of a monster living in the trees. He had avoided them in those cases, not wanting the humans or half elves that lived in the space between to start a witch hunt. Though outside the rule of law of both human and elven land, that did not mean that there weren’t rules of the wilderness, jungle justice, if you will.
The slender elf came smoothly to his feet. His black robes matching the hair that trailed down his back. He had once worn the white robes favored by the “good” mages of the elves, and he had also once worn the green robes of the elven military. They had given him the black robes upon exiling him. He could have worn any color he wanted now that he was on his own, but now he wore them as a statement, the proverbial middle finger to a society that he saw as turning their back on him. Piercing green eyes swept his surroundings, visually looking for a sign that might confirm what his ears told him, he would soon have a visitor. The wand disappeared into a fold of the robe, and even the long fingered hands disappeared, lithe grace hidden behind folds of dark material. The paleness of his skin contrasted with the dark of his hair and the robes he wore. He stood like that, just waiting, filled with the confidence that he could handle whatever came his way. Only time would tell if he was right, though he could not in that moment know how his life was about to change.