SireRav3n
The Noble
Hello! A long time ago I used this platform and just gave up on what I saw as my own pride and joy of a fantasy world I created and still feel should be shared with any who would be interested. Though to be frank I was younger and did not know much about how to use a forum. Now after years of said neglect I wish to give this fantasy world a fully fledged story it deserves. I would love all feedback on what I offer. my hopes are to create something that can be expended on further. yes my grammar will be awful and I ask for some leniency and yes the lore i offer has more stories laid out in fact I would love to host a thread I will link to poll on a few stories the community would like to hear next. This thread is in hopes of bringing back what should not have been forgotten. under this personal explanation I will try to deliver what I believe Era of Conflict can be. Realms that harbor Elements of humanity that all beings share. For better or worse. ( i have much to learn and hope my story telling will get better with time and expereince.)
Dai'leth. A realm of creation, Beauty, and Equity. Our father has spoken of how our blood lines have always known service. How we as Humans where the bulwark against the tides of Shadows. Shadows that knew not of fear or logic. entities that submit to inclinations of savagery. beasts that hunted just for the thrill of ending.
A fire is lit with flint as the air around her is stale. The trees that surround the fire are tall and cast shadows around it as the night blackens all shapes around the camp. The story teller looks at the attending child listening to her tale. As the fire grows and cinders the planks she points at where the glowing flame blisters the bark and contenues. These creatures where created to destroy our gods and in their defence they created us. You see, there were once countless gods. Gods that had powers over realitys and abilities unfathomed by the minds of man. though these creatures were created in the very same way as you and I where. For a service.
A service that almost worked.
The child's eyes widened with despair. the creatures slaughtered and butchered each and every one of them until only four remained. the gods of Balance, Creation, Emotion, and-. the storyteller pauses in disdain. Destruction. Though the three gods that survived knew that they needed an equal to the powers that brought only death and misery. so they created three races.
Elidens which were created in the image of our realm which was once the realm of creation and still is. The elves which were created in the image of the gods and beloved by the god of balance. And us, We are patrons to the god of emotion and all of them created us in the image they thought true beauty should be. We call ourselves the Birth Rites. The child pauses her with a sharp question. ''why?'' The older sister sighs annoyingly and replies. As I was saying, we were created to stop them and we did. We fought hard and cunningly and managed to hold them off. though what we call the first true war is what ended it all. you see we were the front lines against the darkness. Humanity suffered most from this conflict. The Elidens were messengers and scouts of our great and valiant ancestors. as the elves saw to our wounds and to support humans in the countless waves of darkness. In the first true war, a traitor arose from the birth rites. An Eliden named Kita Kayden.
The child looks bewildered by the Elidens choice and asks her sister. ''He helped the monsters? who would do such a thing?!'' The campfire begins to dim and for a moment seems to shutter at the thought itself. the two sisters pay attention to the fire as if it was listening to their story with them. the older sister leans in but before she could continue a twig is heard snapping in the dense forest around them. Before any swift actions could be made by the sisters their father could be heard finishing their story. ''Because some men or beasts are easily persuaded by corruption.''
The younger sister smiles in relief and scans her fathers arms which hold logs for the fireplace and three dead rabbits swaying on his belt by a thin rope. Now, if you are done scaring your younger sibling gut these hares. as for you little one. set up the cots. It is still a day's journey from the capital.
He pulls the hares from his roped belt. the elder sister seems to give up knowing she gets the dirty job and gives off a rude gesture to her sister. the young one nods to her father and runs off to the tent to set up. Their father sits upon the stone that was recently vacated and begins tossing fuel into the fire. He tosses his daughter the rabbits and gives off a deep and beat exhale. the daughter lets the rabbits fall into her lap and reaches for the knife. she sits for a moment and ponders before asking her father. ''what does it mean to be a birth rite?'' he nods once. What you hold in your hands is a gift from our gods. What you breathes is a gift. the skys, stars, trees. Everything around us is ours because we earned it. To be a birth rite is to be a guardian of what exists. No matter our threat we must be the stand against it.
Dai'leth. A realm of creation, Beauty, and Equity. Our father has spoken of how our blood lines have always known service. How we as Humans where the bulwark against the tides of Shadows. Shadows that knew not of fear or logic. entities that submit to inclinations of savagery. beasts that hunted just for the thrill of ending.
A fire is lit with flint as the air around her is stale. The trees that surround the fire are tall and cast shadows around it as the night blackens all shapes around the camp. The story teller looks at the attending child listening to her tale. As the fire grows and cinders the planks she points at where the glowing flame blisters the bark and contenues. These creatures where created to destroy our gods and in their defence they created us. You see, there were once countless gods. Gods that had powers over realitys and abilities unfathomed by the minds of man. though these creatures were created in the very same way as you and I where. For a service.
A service that almost worked.
The child's eyes widened with despair. the creatures slaughtered and butchered each and every one of them until only four remained. the gods of Balance, Creation, Emotion, and-. the storyteller pauses in disdain. Destruction. Though the three gods that survived knew that they needed an equal to the powers that brought only death and misery. so they created three races.
Elidens which were created in the image of our realm which was once the realm of creation and still is. The elves which were created in the image of the gods and beloved by the god of balance. And us, We are patrons to the god of emotion and all of them created us in the image they thought true beauty should be. We call ourselves the Birth Rites. The child pauses her with a sharp question. ''why?'' The older sister sighs annoyingly and replies. As I was saying, we were created to stop them and we did. We fought hard and cunningly and managed to hold them off. though what we call the first true war is what ended it all. you see we were the front lines against the darkness. Humanity suffered most from this conflict. The Elidens were messengers and scouts of our great and valiant ancestors. as the elves saw to our wounds and to support humans in the countless waves of darkness. In the first true war, a traitor arose from the birth rites. An Eliden named Kita Kayden.
The child looks bewildered by the Elidens choice and asks her sister. ''He helped the monsters? who would do such a thing?!'' The campfire begins to dim and for a moment seems to shutter at the thought itself. the two sisters pay attention to the fire as if it was listening to their story with them. the older sister leans in but before she could continue a twig is heard snapping in the dense forest around them. Before any swift actions could be made by the sisters their father could be heard finishing their story. ''Because some men or beasts are easily persuaded by corruption.''
The younger sister smiles in relief and scans her fathers arms which hold logs for the fireplace and three dead rabbits swaying on his belt by a thin rope. Now, if you are done scaring your younger sibling gut these hares. as for you little one. set up the cots. It is still a day's journey from the capital.
He pulls the hares from his roped belt. the elder sister seems to give up knowing she gets the dirty job and gives off a rude gesture to her sister. the young one nods to her father and runs off to the tent to set up. Their father sits upon the stone that was recently vacated and begins tossing fuel into the fire. He tosses his daughter the rabbits and gives off a deep and beat exhale. the daughter lets the rabbits fall into her lap and reaches for the knife. she sits for a moment and ponders before asking her father. ''what does it mean to be a birth rite?'' he nods once. What you hold in your hands is a gift from our gods. What you breathes is a gift. the skys, stars, trees. Everything around us is ours because we earned it. To be a birth rite is to be a guardian of what exists. No matter our threat we must be the stand against it.
