Ev-Anyaron: the first land. Home to our fathers and mothers, and the very dawn of our race. It was in the first times, when ven Létinor walked among the trees and dwelt in our lands that he raised us from sleep. We were but trees then: silent and slumbering, yet life was in us even then. THE ONE came to us by morning’s light and sang in that primordial wood. He touched first a poplar, and from that fair tree Enenvir sprang. Now there were four other trees that he awoke that day––an oak, an ash, a cedar, and a spruce. From the oak came forth Alay; from the ash, Bévere; from the cedar, Mneric; and Ryenna stepped from the spruce. THE ONE loved to look upon his glondmele, and he blessed them with speech and song. The five danced together through the wood, waking the forest around them and taking a clan each, save Enenvir alone. He was to guard them all as a father, in the stead of ven Létinor who made them be. THE ONE delighted in his children, but soon departed, for he had other matters to attend to.
Now all the glondmele were gathered in the Waking Wood for some time, but with the passing seasons they shifted their gaze outward. Together they moved into the valley of Ghonlaid where they made their settlement. It is of this time which the old rhyme speaks:
In the glade of morning dew
When earth was young and people few
There danced and sang a fairer race
With brows of light and shining face
They sang a song in times long past
They danced the dance of first and last
In times forgotten in the mist
Ev-Anyaron, the ancient tryst
In Ghonlaid, fair valley, did our ancestors first make their homes. Their lives were of harmonious kind, and an envy to those who came after. For they were content with the world as it was, and no cold or blistering heat could find them, nor pestilence, hunger, or death. There was no cause for sorrow, nor no shame that they might clothe themselves. For they adorned their bodies not and were not ashamed, but gloried in the beauty that was given them. In those days, no beast hungered for another’s flesh, nor desired to end another’s life. All lived in harmony and there was not any bloodshed among them. Neither did our ancestors kill and eat, but of every tree they ate fruit, nut, and berry.
Indeed our forbears possessed ven Létinor’s gift, and surely it was of greater and purer power, though of today’s spells they had no knowledge. The magics of that day were of a deeper and more entangled sort that bound life together and could sing the earth into form. Indeed this is how they made their dwellings in those first days, for to fell a tree was beyond their comprehension and will. In those earliest times, it was thought that every tree contained the soul of another child, sleeping within. We know now that trees without an awakener are merely trees and nothing more, but in those days the five awakeners lived and practiced their craft. As a sign of good will between THE ONE and his many children, he caused the first flower to bloom. He called that fairest blossom Vanrilis, and ere that tender bloom did grow, none other has surpassed its beauty. It was a testament to his love, and from that time, the earth’s blossoms have brought great comfort to our people through the most troubling of times.
This peace lasted for many years, and the corrupting power of Sfindra was not yet felt by the glondmele. Though Thundra and Sfindra battled across the cosmos, the War of Red and White left Anatéli untouched for some time, and ven Létinor yet walked among his children. It was a dreadful day when a scale from Sfindra’s wicked hide fell upon fair Anatéli. The divine world was cursed that day as chaos sunk its dread fangs into our home. In this world THE ONE no longer could abide, for he is so repulsed by evil. He ascended into the world beyond, where he dwells still and from whence he will return to reclaim his children at the end of all things.
Confusion reigned in Ev-Anyaron, but no evil yet was done among them. Beasts, however, prowled the night and threatened our ancestors and they feared for their lives. Children disappeared in the night, and those who ventured beyond the valley told tales of strange and terrifying creatures that would feast on the flesh of deer and rabbits.
Now there was a great man among the Bévere who was called Órosin. Órosin crafted the first spear and slew many beasts with its point. He was praised for his feats of strength and courage, and he brought honor to the Bévere. But not all were so proud of this slaughter, for it was against the nature of the glondmele to kill. Least pleased of all were Alay, Mneric, and Ryenna, who condemned his actions as cruel and cowardly. For how could a child of THE ONE descend to such depths of depravity that he would end another life? Órosin hated their resentment and departed from the valley of Ghonlaid. He made himself a home in the east, in the hills of Kizhar, along with some of his kin. So began a schism that would shape the legacy of our race.
It was in Kizhar that the Bévere first indulged their monstrous nature, becoming skilled hunters. They made spears and bows, and their darts were hard and sharp. Those who remained in Ghonlaid grew to fear their estranged cousins, and they went to Enenvir who was wandering the Waking Wood. He had not known of the treachery in the valley, but had devoted himself to seeking THE ONE. The wild beasts did not harm him, for they saw ven Létinor’s light in his eyes and became docile once more. When he heard of Órosin and his followers, he went up to Kizhar to reason with them, but they would not listen. This saddened Enenvir greatly, and he went down to Ghonlaid in sorrow for the loss of his children.
Now those in Ghonlaid feared the growing power of Kizhar, and many spoke of leaving their valley for other lands. Enenvir cautioned against it, but many Mneric travelled south into the great woodland, while some of the Ryenna journeyed far into the north to escape the impending doom the Bévere would surely bring. Our ancestors, the Alay, travelled west. They found the ocean there and began building ships to traverse the world. But yet, in Ghonlaid, many remained with Enenvir. And so the four clans were scattered and grew in number. Only a few remained in Ghonlaid, and there their blood was mixed and they erected a great tower. There they remained in relative peace for hundreds of years.
It was sometime near the end of Sfindra’s vile reign that a man rose up from Kizhar and he was full of malice before unseen in a child of Enenvir. He was Karózh of the Bévere who made that wicked shaft––the bane of the Great Ancestor. Karózh went down into Ghonlaid with the great black spear in hand. Zilshathar was its name and a cruel barb it was. In secret night he made his dark ascent, up the steps of the great tower. Hatred boiled in his blood as he drove the twisted point into Enenvir’s back, when he felled the father of all our kind. He cut out his heart––a trophy of his black glory. Thus began the rending of Ev-Anyaron, when the four clans of the glondmele became embroiled in violent war. Since that time, no child of Enenvir has seen such cruelty and heartless slaughter as in those darkest days.
Karózh returned to his people in Kizhar and told them what he had done, and they were appalled at his sudden violence. While the Bévere were no lovers of their rival clans, they still revered Enenvir and acknowledged his authority over all Elfinesse. Karózh was sent into the wilderness where he made his desolation. He called on dark forces––servants of Sfindra and the secret shade. There he grew in dark knowledge and twisted ven Létinor’s gift to foul purposes. He felt the great dragon’s presence fade as the sun went dark and shone again. He called then on Entivandron the wanderer, who came to him and revealed the secret fire. Then returned Karózh to the hills of Kizhar and there he revealed his new magics. The Bévere could not resist such raw power, but stood in awe of him whom they had formerly cast away, and they took into themselves the dark fire which they alone have wielded through the ages.
Karózh took to himself seven young men and they went into the forest. A dark ritual took place there, and Enenvir’s heart was burned to ash. These eight took on dark powers and their eyes became black as night. They were unmatched in power and malice and they led the Bévere in war against the glondmele, for they could no longer be called glondmele. They became the dazhmele and their name was a curse.
In forest dark, in forest dim,
Black water and a father’s heart,
Black fire and an evil barb.
Elfinesse weeps her father’s loss,
But Kizhar laughs and kindles flame,
And kindles war and crushes hope.
Dazhmele, the dragon riders,
Come to kill and come to burn.
First fell the Mneric in their woodland home, then the Ryenna in their halls of stone. Last, the Alay who in Ismera remained, cut down or charred to dust before their vile cousins. Only those of Alay who had left for safer shores remained in the world, so great was the wrath of the dazhmele. The Alay fled across the sea, some arriving in Sarinia, and some venturing further on to Deklonia and Avonia. From those lands our ancestors mustered their might and grew and prospered, but a shadow of fear loomed always in their hearts. For many years, the Alay had no magics which could hope to rival the Bévere, and it was not until the felling of Venkarach and the great wards over our lands that our people could rest without fear. Indeed, for an age the dazhmele came riding on their serpent mounts, raiding as they pleased and sparing no lives. They were a terror and a blight upon our lands.
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