Journal Entry 9.04 - Morvion's Tale
Morvion relates the tale of what happened once he returned to Canton with his lost kindred. He tells of meeting Nerish’t, the evil shaman. He tells of the Burgeon Warrior ceremony and foresees a doom to com for all elves.
General Summary
- Morvion takes a deep breath. He has been waiting a long time to relate the horrid tale of his experience. He has traveled many miles, his only thoughts for days on end recounting how to best relay this story. He knows time is essential, yet he knows he must impress on everyone the true gravity of the situation.
He has been traveling with almost little to no sleep for longer than he can remember. Whatever concoction that Dame Imokan gave him to restore his vigor and wipe the haziness from his thoughts, he is ever grateful.
Not only are the lives of his people at stake, possibly their very character and soul is at stake. Knowing that this tale possibly comes too late, he starts out slowly and with some emotion begins relating the grim details.
“After I left the group, I and the remaining elves headed back toward Canton. The elves, using a preconstructed rope set designed for carrying a barrel, pick up one barrel for every two elves and start hauling and trudging it slowly back toward Canton. In all, they have 8 barrels they are taking back. The rest of my group was only able to muscle 3 captives free from the elves before they moved on.
Despite being so thin and malnourished in appearance, the elves seem to make good time. As I watch them, I see clearly that now we are back in this world, their grayish complexion really does stands out – they do not look healthy. These elves are pale imitations of what a true elf should look like.
Heading back to Canton, we travel for two days non-stop, eating tasteless bread rations along the way. I try talking to them and try convincing them that what they are doing is wrong and they shouldn’t be taking the captives back. The other elves just look at me with blank stares, calling me ‘Blessed Son’ and saying I will understand. Eventually what I come to understand is that it’s not Canton’s soul only which I should be concerned, but the soul of my entire people.
I start to feel like I am one of the special people born to one of the neighboring villages. Individuals that I always considered born simple, yet those villagers treat them as holy and allow them to rant whatever they want. In my words, I am heard, I am understood, yet I am ignored as being of little consequence.
From the barrels, I can hear the captive men moaning, sometimes barely trying to scream out in pain. To my misery, I know that were I to forcibly try and stop a pair of elves in order to remove one of the captives, it would come to bloodshed. While I am not afraid to bleed, or even die honorably, my greater need is to understand and help my people. As much I despair at the suffering I hear, I must steel myself and continue on.
On the way back, I overhear the elves saying they must hurry, for tonight will be the first Effloresce. ‘The first of the burgeon warriors will finally arrive – won’t it be glorious.’ They say this with the most excitement I have as of yet heard from them, yet it’s still said with a complete lack of any real emotion and is unnerving. I press for more information and they just tell me again and again to wait and see, I will understand tonight.”
Morvion pauses. Overtaken by the experience of relating the story, he needs a moment to collect himself before continuing on.
“When my small group arrives at Canton, I can see that several of the other 200 or so elves have already arrived and are making camp. A few have ventured into the tree village, however most seem uncomfortable with being off the ground and are setting up small lean-tos and tents.
For the first time, I see some children among these strange elves. I count only eight children total for the whole village. Three are wearing the drab clothing like everyone else, while five are wearing dingy yellow smocks with small colorful decorations embroidered in the cloth. None of the children are acting like children, all are moving around slowly while staying busy with no enjoyment in their actions.
Near the center of the village base, several elves are using shovels and starting to dig large holes in the ground.
Walking around, I also notice a few of the female elves looking at me. I understand that look, I am an elf who used to have decent social standing, however they are quickly berated by the older elves. I say this not to brag, but to impress that the most basic aspects of society have been corrupted in these people. We elves have always had few taboos in these regards like you humans and city folk.
I overhear one of the older females say to the two younger elves, “No, put that from your mind, we unplanted are not worthy, it is ours to serve. Serve well this life and maybe the next life the great Dark will let us feast at his table before extinguishing our misery for the eternal sleep.”
As I wonder around dismayed, walking around the tree bases of my home, a ruckus in the distance draws my attention. Another fifty or so elves are approaching, bearing the same likeness of all the other cursed Cantonese elves, yet a little larger and better armed, carrying weapons of steel.
In their lead is an older yet hale elf with long straight white hair. He is dressed in the ceremonial garbs of a Canton shaman, garb I know well for I myself used to wear it. As he approaches, many of the surrounding elves bow their head as whispers of, “It’s the prophet,” circulate throughout the crowd.
He approaches smiles. It is the first smile I have seen in two days. “Well met, young brother. You have done well, releasing our master. I am your elder and predecessor, Nerisht’.” While the final accent of his name is pronounced with a harsh ‘t’, when he says it, that last little bit ends with a considerable inflection almost making a syllable in and of itself.
I seriously consider, I mean I truly consider, charging this mockery to my tribe and ending the matter right then and there. The smile on Nerisht’s face indicates he is actually expecting such an attack, and this alone possibly is what causes me to pause.
After a brief pause, Nerisht’ looks around and says loudly, “See, the beginning of wisdom does exist in the lad.” Looking back at me he softly says, “Are you ready for the festivities tonight? It’s Effloresce. The first of many.” I can’t tell if he is mocking me or seriously trying to be genial.
I now take a closer look at the barrels that Nerisht’ and his elves are carrying into the village center. Five empty barrels which seem rather light and another twelve sealed barrels which are heavy enough that the elves carrying them seem to be struggling. Each of these barrels is different than all the other gray clay barrels I have seen so far. Each of these barrels is more of an alabaster color with yellow runes inscribed all over them in two bands, one around the top and one around the bottom.
Maybe now finally able to get some answers, I ask Nerisht’, “The other elders all believed that you died before I was born. It is good to see you alive, elder shaman. Sadly, your arrival was too late for those of our people who remained in Canton. Were you released from the world beyond the gate as well? Or have you been waiting here in the shadows for their return? There is much I do not understand. Our people seem to have forgotten our ways. Even the children have forgotten how to be children. How did all this happen?”
Nerish’t replies eagerly, he wants this conversation. "Our old ways were flawed. Year after year, we live in this harmonious bliss with nature, believing this is how a proper elf should live. The trees providing all, home, safety, and nourishment. Then we die, are buried near the roots and join the great tree continuing the process. Did you know that we elves used be masters of the world - nature wasn't something revered, it was that which we were master of. Death was from accident, not from age. We aren't from this world, and I do not mean this world as it exists, we are not from the world of man - this world or the last world. We were kings - roamers of the stars on mighty ships sailing the waves of the celestial cosmos. All trembled before our might. To the east is a great dragon - Yes I see you know of what I mean. Elves have fallen so far, we actually consider her a god. Imagine that, a reptile as a god to elves. I tell you, we were gods once - we traveled the worlds. Majalacturis promises us power and will lead us back to the stars."
“Is that how it was before? When we were kings, were most of our people soulless slaves?”, I ask.
"Our people were free. Free to travel, and free of the guilt of morality and concern for the petty lives of the other races. We were not challenged, and what could be a greater freedom. The ability to do what you want with no consequence. We have a long road to return to that time. And in time, the soulless slaves of our people who are unworthy will die off and only the true elves will remain." Nerisht’s says this gravely, acknowledging in the way he answered that this is a needed solution, not the ideal solution.
Finding myself drawn in, knowing I didn’t want to hear the answer, but needing the answer, I ask, “Was Majalacturis a friend of our ancestors, before the Coalescence?”
"We did not know of Majalacturis before, and he knew not of us. Our bond is one of mutual need. He needs a people, and we need a god who will make us great." He then expounds, "Yes, I know he is a dark and hungry being. He craves terror and dominion. But he offers power and he needs a people. His people were mostly killed, only a few of his first children remain. They are truly a great thing to behold and behold them you will later on tonight. The gifts he gives those who are loyal to his dominion are limitless. You will come to see this."
“How do you plan to recruit the other elven tribes?” Feeling the need to take a little control in this conversation, I lead out with a guess as to our past, “They have resisted you before and will see this path as heretical.”
He sighs. “Yes, the past is unfortunate. Know this, over a third of the people of Canton saw my wisdom and even more would have. It was the other tribes who intervened and ran me out. Seven neighboring shaman came and cornered me here in Canton before I could transport all of our peoples to the other land. Had I gathered my – our – entire village back then, things would have been different. Canton would have spent less than a generation in that world preparing. We would have freed Majalacturis ourselves.”
"So yes, they will resist. And many will die. Many will choose enslavement. However, enough will choose to return to our old ways. The need for glory burns in the blood of all true elves. These are things you will see."
"Of the elves you see around us, most have been found unworthy. Majalacturis only accepts the best. The rest serve. These people will be the first servants among many. And those who serve well will be reborn, and when they are ready, Majalacturis will call them worthy and make great warriors of them."
"Even I am unworthy as I am now, I am but a prophet of things to come. You asked where I have been, I was not allowed to cross over into the proving ground. I remained behind, at first attempting to gather the rest of our people. Failing that and after taking my leave of Canton, I went north for a brief time and studied in the temple of an ancient Necromancer. From there, learning all I could, I travelled all over seeking others to free my master before heading west. All the way to the mountains. I have resided there for the last century at least, learning and honing my skills, all the while waiting for the one to come who will free our lord. It was a glorious day for me indeed when Majalacturis told me that another would free him, I was free of that burden and given other tasks to prepare."
He then approaches Morvion, slowly reaching out with both arms. "Majalacturis has named you Malice. You are to be his general. And yes, I know for a fact you have reservations. You will come around, for in you exists the fires of hatred for the wrongs which have fallen our people. A warrior who serves willingly is worth a hundred warriors forced into service. My brother, he has given us two years for you to assume your role. If you fail to live up to the expectations of our ancestors, then so be it. I will choose another! In fact, your replacement is already chosen, so don’t linger on your decision.”
Feeling I am failing even in properly defending my beliefs, becoming uncertain, I admit, “I too have come to realize that the knowledge of our people is incomplete. I should very much like to compare what we have learned together. But I fear that the return to glory offered by Majalacturis is not what it seems. Look around us, tree brother. Our people are lifeless husks! Even the children do not know how to laugh or play. Have they been judged unworthy as well? Is this a truly a path to bring our people to their former glory? Or is it a path merely to power?”
"Wait till tonight's feast. Much more will be explained. Much more,” he replies.
I then ask, “Very well. In the meantime, will you help me teach our people how to be elves again? These trees are our birthright, and there is room for all.”
This makes me sick to say, but that seemed to be the answer he was wanting. “Do as you will. Remember, there is 8000 years of culture purified in the proving lands to undo. These people know no other way. Please be my guest. They will listen to you or they will not. For now, I must retire, the rites of the Effloresce are challenging." He turns and leaves without another word.
Not wasting any time, I walk into a central area and then hold my hands up high as four balls of light begin circling myself, at first slowly, then increasingly faster. Focusing, I steadily float into the air. Once I am around 20 feet in the air above all the other elves, I speak loudly, “My people, I welcome you back to your ancestral home. I realize that this place seems very strange to you. You have been kept from this place for a very long time, but here is where you are meant to be. And by here, I do not mean where you stand! Elves are not meant to live on the ground, sharing the earth with snakes and worms. Our place is among the sky!” With that, the four dancing lights fly off from their orbits around myself to the four corners of Canton. “It has always been so; it will always be so.”
I then start showing the elves the safe entry and exit points and give anyone willing to listen a tour of the accommodations along with warnings for areas that have burned. Many listen well. Once done, I wait for the feast, while contemplating my newfound power which made the demonstration possible. Is this what happened when Coedesta was killed, did I gain some of her essence? Can I use this possibly to eventually rid my people of Majalacturis?
- Morvion again stops his narrative. He is visibly distraught as he collects his next words. “I apologize, this next part, what I am about to say, is most horrific. What I am about to describe may be the eradication of my people. It may have already come to pass.” He chokes a sob back, then slowly finishes his tale.
To be clear, I do find some success in acclimating the lost elves of Canton to the village. Many just wander and follow me around, placating my instructions, but a few actually seem to be taking interest.
And it is those that I focus on. I quickly find that more than a few are taking to the trees as if they had been born in them. Better yet, I also find that very few of the elves have any actual fear of heights, it’s more a fear of being away from the ground. Even then, they seem to give up their reluctance rather quickly once I get them in the treetops.
Around early afternoon, many start looking to nap. I feel the need to rest also, after all I was just on a two day hike with no rest and then when we had arrived in Canton, it seemed they had only allowed rest for but a few hours before being up again pursuing their new toils. While it is true that elves don’t experience sleep like most races, we must still rest.
Considerably refreshed, I continue to survey the damage, especially to the main stairway. I engage a few of the elves to help in some basic repairs. Unfortunately, unlike the taking to trees, none of the elves possess the rudimentary skills of woodworking. Finding tools and teaching them preoccupies my time for the rest of the afternoon.
All the elves eat lightly throughout the suns set, promising that the feast won’t happen till several hours after dark.
I check in on the progress of the elves which had been digging in the middle of the village. They have dug holes for the five specially marked empty barrels and have buried them up to their lips. Next to each barrel, they have also buried one of the barrels containing a Coterie guard. I continue to feel sickened by this, not so much that I am helpless to address the situation but that my kin are so unfazed by their actions. They act as if this is nothing more interesting than picking berries.
The remaining twelve barrels they have set in a circle around the buried barrels.
Around all this, several cloths have been laid out and a few makeshift tables set up. Some of the elves have even dragged some smaller tables down from above. When I try to stop them and suggest we have the feast in the trees, they just look at me quizzically, “Trees grow in the ground, not in the tops of other trees? Or are we mistaken?”
Already resigned to just watch and observe, I notice that despite all the preparations, no one is making any food. Containers and cups are brought down from above also, yet except for some being filled with water, there is no other signs of sustenance. When I ask, I am told that Nerisht’ will provide or the Dark Lord will provide.
When the time of the feast finally arrives, Nerisht’ gathers all the elves. Truthfully, I am somewhat expecting a big display, a rousing speeches, anything. Instead once everyone is gathered, they stand around in silence. Nerisht’ starts spell casting. I recognize spell elements of create food and water in his spell, plus elements of a spell I have read about called hero’s feast.
The spell doesn’t take long and isn’t all that grandiose. As soon as the spell finishes, all the tables and several clothes are now lined with food. The containers are filled with wine. Everyone begins to quietly eat with little conversation. I am somewhat apprehensive about eating the food, especially the meat as I know not what kind of meat it is and it has come from an evil god not afraid to break all sort of taboos. When asked, Nerisht’ smiles, he doesn’t know either. He assures me however that it isn’t elf or human.
The food is quite good, much better than I was expecting. I had tried a little food back in the Canton of the other world and it had been tasteless and bland.
As the meal is concluding, Nerish’t calls for everyone’s attention. He starts by floating up in the sky, central to everyone, over the buried containers. I suspect this imitation to what I had done earlier is intentional. I don’t think he was mocking or taunting me, just building on what I had already done.
He then begins to address everyone. “Peoples of Canton, we have returned home. For you, all you have known is the travails of the other world, a proving ground, a forge where our mettle has been tempered. Over the last 8000 years, much has been sacrificed. We have sacrificed our lives to hard labor when not worthy. When worthy, we have sacrificed ourselves to the ground to be remade in the glory of ages past. Tonight is the first night of Effloresce. The first of many. Do you wish to see another planting first, or do you wish to see the first of the Burgeon Warriors raised from their eternal dream?”
Almost to an elf, they call for the Burgeon Warriors to be released.
“Very well.” Nerisht’ looks out into the darkness. Out of the dense jungle come three beings, each about eight foot tall. “Behold. You know from our legends that we are not the first children of Majalacturis. His children were almost all slain by the evil magics of man when they cast their great spell with little regard for anyone else. Only a handful remain of his children. He needed a new family and we needed a new god, one who would restore us to our rightful places. As we chose Majalacturis to be our god, he chose us to be his new children.”
“Take a look upon the remains of his final few children. Less than fifty remain in this world.” With that he directs everyone’s attention to the beings which have just stepped out of the jungle. Each is about eight foot tall and decidedly insectoid in appearance.
Standing on four legs supporting a large abdomen, their thorax stretches up vertically. Each one has an extra set of arms for four arms total, and then an insectoid head much like that of a mantis. Unlike a mantis head they have no antennae and have oversized mandibles. Each one appears to be a well armored being covered by thick carapace pieces shiny with metallic glints of polished stone. Two of them are pitch black while the third larger one is a milky white. Each one is armed with single polearm ending in a bladed axe head. As they move toward the crowd, the elves part and let them move to the center.
“Behold, three of Majalcturis’s original children. They were not always as you see. They were peaceful and passive, subject to being hunted and destroyed as other races saw fit. It was only after his children were destroyed that Majalacturis turned to his darker nature and transformed those that into what you see now.”
“Now is Efflorescence and the time to behold the Burgeon children of our master. This, my kin, is what awaits us all!” he shouts. “I shall now awake our sleeping kin from the eternal dream. These twelve were the first planted almost 8,000 years ago. They have grown to their adulthood and become the true children of our Dark Lord.”
Nerisht’ begins casting and the twelve sealed barrels circling the burial site start to rock and show small cracks. After a few minutes they stop rocking and Nerisht’s spell comes to an end. Then with a mighty shout, he commands, “Come forth.”
“The twelve barrels crumble to fine dust and in their remains are twelve elves balled up with their arms around their knees. As the dust starts to fall away, all twelve stand as one. They each stand about seven feet and are naked. Each of the twelve, 7 males and 5 females, are overly muscular, so much so that they appear more human in appearance with their broader shoulders and thick arm and leg muscles. Their ears are definitely elven, along with their almond-shaped eyes and narrow noses, as is their long straight silver hair
It’s their differences which highlight them as not being an entirely a perfect specimen of an elfkind. Each one is white like the moon, their skin almost glowing silver. Starting at their wrists and extending up their outer arm to the elbow is a blade of what appears to be possibly organic metal. This blade extends past the elbow, no longer attached to the arm another foot before tapering into sharp point. The blade width is almost 4 inches straight out at the elbow. While they have exceptionally defined abdomen muscles, faint lines of vertical banding can be seen under the skin – almost as if some type of hard cable is stretched across for added protection.
An extra neck muscle seems to trail down each side of their neck while their windpipe appears to be covered with segmented scale similar to the same mercurial metal which makes up their arm blades.
Their eyes glow with a silver fire. This is not an exaggeration, I don’t think they could hid in the dark. A small sliver of a blade of vertical metal covers each eye orbit.
The final difference doesn’t apply to all of the elves. Five of them – 3 of the females and 2 of the males - spread forth large powerful silver wings, much like giant bat wings. Those five immediately jump up and take flight into the sky and start circling the among the tallest trees in and out of the various house structures.
Nerisht’ looks quite pleased. “This is our future. Each of us who has been found worthy has been transformed. Over the last 8000 years our children, as they have been found worthy have entered the great dream to now arise in our true form in the coming months. There are over 5000 to be born in coming nights. This is the form we ruled the heavens with before being brought low.”
One of the new Burgeon Elves, taller than the rest steps forward, looking around. In a powerful voice carrying to the farthest reaches of the trees, “I was but 8 years when I last saw these trees, the year I went to the other realm. I entered the dream as a child, absorbed much from our master Majalacturis in the art of magics and war. And now I awaken to serve. Fear not, I serve you – my people as I serve our Dark Lord. Tonight I and my eleven kin shall shortly strike north and entreat with Magada tribe. Many will resist, some will perish. Be ready, tonight we will bring back many to serve in one fashion or another. Sadly, it will be their sacrifice which heralds our coming to the others. But it must be so, for if the other tribes do not understand our might, they will never join us without their first being blood. Rejoice – the time of the elf has returned!”
I fled just as Nerisht finished his speech. Those were the last words I heard him say. I regret to say, as I was fleeing, I saw the five children in the yellow smocks making their way to the center. I fear I know what the intent was. I returned as quickly as I could, believing I did not have time to wait a month for you to use the gate once again. Along the way, I alerted every tribe I came across of the dangers to come. Fortunately, they all believed me, their shaman already having an inkling of a dark time coming.”
- Morvion pauses as he finishes his account of the events which had transpired in Canton. “I was wrong not to help the rest of you save the Chrailis men from the elves. I see that now, and I’m sorry. The darkness we brought back with us from that other place was much greater than I ever imagined. For now, the only hope for my people is to warn the other tribes so that they may go into hiding.
Bury all your secrets in my skin
Come away with innocence and leave me with my sins
The air around me still feels like a cage
And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again
So if you love me let me go
And run away before I know
My heart is just too dark to care
I can't destroy what isn't there
Deliver me into my fate
If I'm alone I cannot hate
I don't deserve to have you
Ooh, my smile was taken long agov
If I can change I hope I never know
I still press your letters to my lips
And cherish them in parts of me that savor every kiss
I couldn't face a life without your lights
But all of that was ripped apart when you refused to fight
So save your breath, I will not care
I think I made it very clear
You couldn't hate enough to love
Is that supposed to be enough?
I only wish you weren't my friend
Then I could hurt you in the end
I never claimed to be a saint
Ooh, my own was banished long ago
It took the death of hope to let you go
So break yourself against my stones
And spit your pity in my soul
You never needed any help
You sold me out to save yourself
And I won't listen to your shame
You ran away, you're all the same
Angels lie to keep control
Ooh, my love was punished long ago
- Corey Taylor/Slipknot
Notes
Additional notes not included with Morvion's Tale.
Morvion makes good time heading back to Chrailis, sleeping and resting only as absolutely needed. Along the way, he warns the elves he encounters of the pending danger.
His sleep and dreams are very troubled. He doesn't recall much except for waking feeling chilled. The fevered elements of his dreams consist of pain and destruction, however, it is aimed at Majalacturis - an unsettling hatred. While Morvion could understand this being his subconscious, he believes it might be something else.
Once Morvion reaches the boundary of Si’Nassa’s influence, he is now sensitive enough to feel the change. In the process, some of the burden he has felt from his connection with Majalacturis begins to slide away.
That gnawing hatred he feels toward the dark god remains the same during his time of rest. In addition, he is beginning to recall images, in particular, that of a jagged knife made of ice. A single message is starting to form in his dreams along the lines of Meet with me once you return to Chrailis.
Beyond that, he is noticing that the small elf tribes he encounters are more militarized. They have already been informed of a threat. He sees a few squads of Rangers roaming around along with various Coterie agents standing guard aloof at the outskirts of the various villages. He tries once or twice to strike up a conversation with the agents. The only answer he gets from this is to hurry on back to Chrailis, the threat is already known, and that Morvion is needed there if he wishes to aid in ending the threat of the Dark God.
Report Date
09 May 2018
Comments
Author's Notes
Events occur in the months of Autumn, 920th Year of Her Prominence. (1228 AC) The time span of this journal is 19 days covering Ja Gorahz 3rd through the 21st.