The Telling of Quick Elf History

If you've been in the Ideas discussion area of the forums, you might have taken notice of my post concerning my new idea for a race in Felarya. They are called the Quick Elves, and a general overview, along with this post, can be found in its entirety on my dA account. I post it here for your reading pleasure (and the selfish reasons of getting you to view it).

--

Tre'dah'ski spied through her looking glass the clearing, the fire just beginning to create a small flicker in the forest, the light a small dot from this distance. The tree she chosen to use as a lookout towered over the forest of smaller trees that bordered the considerably larger area of trees. The last light of the sun as it disappeared behind the horizon allowed her to catch a flash here and there among the treetops; the others were making their rounds before the meeting began.
The ground had a dizzying look to it from this high up, she thought, and again it amazed her what her ancestors had done for them. She jumped down and enjoyed the whistling sound the wind made in her ears as the ground sped toward her. She tucked up her long legs and rolled as she hit, springing out into a sprint. Running backwards along straight routes had become one of her new interests; the leaves twigs hung in the air behind her in the places her feet had landed, no more than two or three footprints behind her revealed by a small splash of dirt and fallen plant. On a whim she jumped backwards and turned mid-air, continuing her run. The clearing she reached was one of many they had; only five or six feet in diameter, a small fireplace marking the center. There many others had gathered, placing themselves on the ends of branches on the trees that circled it, all in view of the fire that provided a dim light and dancing shadows.
Just as she sat down, a rod of fire shot from the pit upwards, silencing the idle chatter of the Felarya tribe. A figure stood near the center, her hand pointing up as the rod of flame dissipated in front of them. Her clothing was adorned with feathers, the woven mirrors hugging her figure from head to toe, exposing her face and ending in a cascade on her head, covering her short hair and giving it a spiked look. The metalwork on the sheaths of her Te'ni'vto appeared ornate beyond any she had ever seen, revealing her immense skill and wise old age. She began to speak:
"Let the meeting before the week of night begins yet again. We gather here to remember our great history, and learn from it still." Tre'da'ski looked at the younger elves in attendance--they were still learning the history and traditions of their people, and all had an intense look on their face as they listened to the chief continue in a dramatic tone: "I will start with our Story of Origin, as tradition dictates, before we proceed to the meeting.
"Long ago, in times immemorial, before any of your grandparents, or their grandparents, or their grandparents were born, eons and eons ago, our people and the Scarlet were one. We lived for many, many years in a different world, a world we cannot go back to, cannot see, cannot communicate with, and cannot be accepted by. For our ancestors' crimes, we will never return. For our ancestors' crimes we will forever pay. Heed the warnings of this ancient and sacred Story of Origin.
"We were happy, content, with life in the First World. We grew prosperous and large, our countries glorious, our achievements many, and none could stand against our might. Magic power was freely available to any who sought it then, the potential limitless to those who possessed talent, and because of it, our cities were tall, sprawling across the continents in beauty." As she spoke, her hands wove complex movements in front of the fire, coloring the slowing dancing flames and shaping them. A large city with buildings shoved together and flying chariots solidified in front of her momentarily, dissipating as she told the story.
"But there existed a Scarlet Elf, powerful in magic and possessing limitless gold to trade, who found he wasn't content with his success and power." A red figure of a robed Elf, with short legs and arms, holding a book in one hand and holding the other up in a half-clenched fist appeared above the fire, "And his name was The Founder, who was responsible for our existence here. As we have now, so it was back then, there existed Forbidden Magic--techniques, enchantments, and rituals which Mortals were not to practice. Unspeakable techniques, conjuring up horrors and creating abominations of its practitioners. And The Founder ignored the warnings his ancestors had set before him, venturing into the dark recesses of might and magic that had been protected and silenced throughout the ages. He gathered others around him, infecting their minds with the same ideals and goals, goading and deceiving them to follow him..." Several other robed elves appeared next to the figure, gold at first, then turning the same shad as the Founder, "And when he was finally banished from the cities of our ancestors, the followers numbered in the thousands, shaking the ground as they marched out of the cities in pride to join their heretic Leader in the great forests that surrounded them.
"There, in the deep forests, unhindered by the social restrictions that for so long had protected our ancestors, the Founder and his followers began to alter themselves. Knowing that their lives were short, they schemed to try and extend them, to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, accomplish as much as they could before they died there where they knew none of the people in the cities would remember them. Their answer was to slow down the world, extending the few years they had left.
"But, having forgotten the reason the magics were forbidden, they soon became incredibly powerful, altering themselves for the sake of power and speed and might. Their families and descendants subjected themselves to some of the changes, but those needed for magic were unnecessary to those who absconded from the dark arts. The wizards among the outcasts became walking abominations, horrors to behold, and horrors they could unleash at they slightest whim. The great powers that exist to manipulate the universe soon drove them mad, twisting their minds and thoughts. Soon, they became violent and destructive, gaining pleasure from the pain and suffering of others. The families and descendants of the wizards split into factions, going to war against each other. As they fought, the wizards changed themselves, flesh and bone, becoming more and more powerful to gain the advantage in a war that lasted for generations. As they changed, the might of their magic also increased, from casting balls of fire to plucking stars from the sky and hurling them at their enemies. They could boil away oceans, control hurricanes, carve gouges in the land that could extend for thousands of kilometers, or blast away mountains so as to bring forth the fire from underground to rain liquid fire onto their adversaries." Small villages appeared in the flames, smothered by giant red balls of flame.
"Soon the mad wizards were able to manipulate the very fabric of Reality, able to create or destroy entire continents, or shifting them to different universes entirely. When the wars spread to Felarya, the great and wise Dryad called Ku'dah'mau'be," she put the palm of her right hand to her forehead in a clenched fist, Tre'dah'ski doing the same, pausing in reverence to the sacred name, "The Ancient, saw the first of us to arrive, and knew in her heart the kind of corruption that had consumed us. She called upon the guardian Mercreti to assist her in saving this world from our corrupt ancestors. Like all great dryads, she was patient and waited, waited until the precise moment to strike against them. Bewildered and confused, the wizards were ill-prepared for the power of Mercreti combined with the surgical precision of The Ancient, and they fell without damaging the reality of Felarya.
"Only the descendants of the wizards remained, and here is where The Ancient showed us her mercy and benevolence. Mercreti, seeking to destroy us entirely, was prevented by The Ancient's wisdom. She negotiated a compromise, one that would ensure our survival and the prevention of such a threat to exist ever again. We were undone, piece by piece, until we resembled our original forms, and were made to detest powerful or destructive magic.
"This distaste and revulsion remains with us to this day, we still remain restrained, sensitive, alive. For millennia we have survived, our discipline and traditions, once held in disregard by The Founder, have protected us to this day. We have grown and survived the rise and fall of Ur-Sagol, the mighty and fallen city, the fate of which we do not speak, having long discarded the memory of its history and fall.
"We owe our lives to The Ancient dryad and her descendants, the current descendant being Ku'dah'mau'be Drayla," the fist again, "who we honor with our traditions, memories, reverence, and sacrifices." The fire died down to a few burning embers as the tribal council stood and approached their leader.
"With this in mind," she spoke in a grave voice, "we commence this meeting. May it guide our judgement, prevent the repetition of grave mistakes, and honor Ku'dah'mau'be Drayla." Her slight bow went in the direction of the council, who returned the gesture and sat around the now-ablaze fire pit.