RisingSunSorta WIP history for the elven nation:
The sigil of the Great Tree, the symbol now used to represent all Elvenkind.
Long, long ago, when the world was barren and devoid of life, there was the Great Tree. It was, is, and will always be the ultimate Source of all things that draw breath from its sacred airs. There it stood, tall and shining, its leaves shimmering with an ancient light in the midst of an immeasurable dark waste. And with one twist of its ancient branches, it created green grass beneath its feet, soil to nourish its many children, a blue sky, a flaming sun, and a silent moon to envelop and watch over its creation. It created life, life in the purest form, a purity which will never be recreated by human ambition or dwarven machination in the days to come.
This was the Age of Life - when only creatures blessed directly from the Great Tree itself had the privilege to perceive the primordial beauty of the world. A great Wood enveloped the land, and within that wood lived deers the size of houses, bears that could crush a dwarven ballista with one swipe of a claw. There dwelt bulls the size of small castles, and small pea-plants that could tear through armor in their choking branches. The smallest birch tree could house an entire nation of halflings. The world was alive. The Tree perceived its creation, and it perceived it was good.
Then the Tree decided that its creation should be given sentience beyond that of mere animals. It wanted things that could not just enjoy the fruits of its labors, but also contemplate it, and honor their Creator. Thence, the Tree created the winged Fairies from its leaves, and the great Guardians from its sturdy trunk. The Fairies were naught but the size of a small pebble, but their enchanted whispers could still beasts ten thousand times that size. The Guardians defended the Woods from threats from the great Beyond, from the deities whose intentions the Great Tree did not know, and feared.
But some of the fairies did not fear these deities. The lure of power, of knowledge, that the presence of these Beyonders entailed enchanted these fairies. They lusted to be outside, to explore the lands outside the Wood, to be outside the influence of the Tree that governed the very air they breathed. The Beyonders granted strength, dominance, the ability to conquer and rule a creation that was beyond the reach of the Tree. These fairies sat, and plotted. They communed in secret with the Deities, gaining their secret knowledge, until one fateful day, a portal to the world which the Beyonders ruled was opened.
The Tree perceived this new hole in its creation, and it screamed. A loud, billowing scream, encouraged by the pain that the portal tore in its very being. The fairies, not looking back, leapt into the great unknown and closed the portal. The scream was the last they heard of their home, the place where they truly felt life.
When the rebel fairies arrived at the realm of the Beyonders, they were greeted with a barren wasteland. The trees only reached up to the size of houses, and the animals were the size of ants. Life did not flourish here - there was nothing to live for. The animals regularly preyed upon each other, and ripped each other to shreds in a melancholy bloody struggle for life. This was not life - this was death, death on a daily basis. But they could not come back to the Tree, nor could they appease it. They could only make their current home livable. In penance for their rebellion, they called themselves the ‘elphiror’ - the fallen, and their new home the Fallen Realm. Forever these fairies - incorrectly called ‘Elves’ by other races - cursed the Beyonders, spited them for their treachery and their visions of gold and power. Now the elves retreat into the forests, connecting with the sparse attempts of nature that were only shadows of the Wood, attempting to commune with their Great Tree, the only home they will ever know.
Anor’nurath
The Fallen Realm
Known as the NORNUR DOMINION to outsiders
The sigil of the Great Tree, the symbol now used to represent all Elvenkind.
Long, long ago, when the world was barren and devoid of life, there was the Great Tree. It was, is, and will always be the ultimate Source of all things that draw breath from its sacred airs. There it stood, tall and shining, its leaves shimmering with an ancient light in the midst of an immeasurable dark waste. And with one twist of its ancient branches, it created green grass beneath its feet, soil to nourish its many children, a blue sky, a flaming sun, and a silent moon to envelop and watch over its creation. It created life, life in the purest form, a purity which will never be recreated by human ambition or dwarven machination in the days to come.
This was the Age of Life - when only creatures blessed directly from the Great Tree itself had the privilege to perceive the primordial beauty of the world. A great Wood enveloped the land, and within that wood lived deers the size of houses, bears that could crush a dwarven ballista with one swipe of a claw. There dwelt bulls the size of small castles, and small pea-plants that could tear through armor in their choking branches. The smallest birch tree could house an entire nation of halflings. The world was alive. The Tree perceived its creation, and it perceived it was good.
Then the Tree decided that its creation should be given sentience beyond that of mere animals. It wanted things that could not just enjoy the fruits of its labors, but also contemplate it, and honor their Creator. Thence, the Tree created the winged Fairies from its leaves, and the great Guardians from its sturdy trunk. The Fairies were naught but the size of a small pebble, but their enchanted whispers could still beasts ten thousand times that size. The Guardians defended the Woods from threats from the great Beyond, from the deities whose intentions the Great Tree did not know, and feared.
But some of the fairies did not fear these deities. The lure of power, of knowledge, that the presence of these Beyonders entailed enchanted these fairies. They lusted to be outside, to explore the lands outside the Wood, to be outside the influence of the Tree that governed the very air they breathed. The Beyonders granted strength, dominance, the ability to conquer and rule a creation that was beyond the reach of the Tree. These fairies sat, and plotted. They communed in secret with the Deities, gaining their secret knowledge, until one fateful day, a portal to the world which the Beyonders ruled was opened.
The Tree perceived this new hole in its creation, and it screamed. A loud, billowing scream, encouraged by the pain that the portal tore in its very being. The fairies, not looking back, leapt into the great unknown and closed the portal. The scream was the last they heard of their home, the place where they truly felt life.
When the rebel fairies arrived at the realm of the Beyonders, they were greeted with a barren wasteland. The trees only reached up to the size of houses, and the animals were the size of ants. Life did not flourish here - there was nothing to live for. The animals regularly preyed upon each other, and ripped each other to shreds in a melancholy bloody struggle for life. This was not life - this was death, death on a daily basis. But they could not come back to the Tree, nor could they appease it. They could only make their current home livable. In penance for their rebellion, they called themselves the ‘elphiror’ - the fallen, and their new home the Fallen Realm. Forever these fairies - incorrectly called ‘Elves’ by other races - cursed the Beyonders, spited them for their treachery and their visions of gold and power. Now the elves retreat into the forests, connecting with the sparse attempts of nature that were only shadows of the Wood, attempting to commune with their Great Tree, the only home they will ever know.
