Fable Solana

In their arrogance, the Elves committed unthinkable atrocities. They were supposed to be the protectors and in turn became the oppressors, believing they were near gods themselves. The Gods were forced to strip them of their magic in hopes that they would learn from their mistakes.

Eons have passed and the Elven ancestral lands have become twisted and poisoned, a land of horror, deceit, a collecting place of everything vile or despicable in Lennador. It is where the Elves still reside. And they did not learn. Time only made their anger and resentment fester. Arrogance poisoning them from the heart outward. Magic remaining in the land of Niedrig Mire reflected exactly the affliction of their hearts.

Fable lived his whole life in Niedrig, as do all timberland Elves. Raised by his mother who adored him as the center of her world, believing he was some sort of oracle to their people, divinely blessed to return their people back to their former glory. Slipping in and out of bouts of insanity, she crafted a world view in his mind that set him at the top, apart. Fable himself learned to believe it as his mother saw a divine message in almost anything he did. He lived through the unjust oppression his kinfolk still lived under because of the accursed gods. He knew, as did all the Elves, who was to blame for their despicable state of existence.

Outside the Mire, Elves were no more than whispered tales to frighten children into behaving, other wise the Elves would kidnap them in the night. Being dragged off into the dark, using their magic to pull the child's ears into points, distorting their faces so they could never return home. Even adults who didn't take the tales seriously since they were the same as they had heard as a child, if they heard a tapping on the windowpane as they were turning out the lights, they would quickly find themselves out of bed to shut the curtains tight. Just to be safe. Even though Elves didn't exist.

Fable didn't have a natural talent for speaking in public. Yet he learned. Through time more and more of the Elves began to listen his sermons. He was no longer treated as unhinged as his mother as his words struck a cord with each new listener.

“We were loved by the Gods once. Their favored creations. The world was ours to command. Before it was filled with such filth. The putrescence of the lower races leave their tainted stench smeared across the land that rightfully belongs to us. Wretched little ice pixies. Minotaurs. Dwarves. Orcs. Gnomes. Fairies. Goblins. Selkies. Li'l Fuuts. Tróllz. Humans. The Gods let them breed like cockroaches to spite us. Let them inhabit our ancestral lands as we were forced into the shadows, hated by all. Such fickle Gods do not deserve our honor, our allegiance. As they have shunned us so will we shun them! As they have taken from us, so will we take back from them! In our hands the age of Elves will rise again!” Small as the crowd was, Fable’s words still sparked emboldened cheers.

He would be the oracle his mother endlessly talked about when he was a child. His followers asked for his prayers and blessings, giving him gifts as they trailed behind him clinging to his every word. He would be the savior and reclaim their rightful place as the gods they once were. This was something he could do that no other Elf could.

Because he has a spark of magic.

Current Location

Niedrig Mire

Species

Elves

Gender

Male