The Book of Sylvan

Contents
Introduction – By Cathanaleith

The history of the Sylvan Elves – By Kellarionlaurial

The Final Blow – Teiron’s Journal.

The Tale of Ranal and the Whispering Blade

The Prophesy of the Scions of Rulien

Obsidia – by the Lord Leiron


The Book of Sylvan
To select merely a few items from the vast libraries of Sylvan is a difficult – yet a pleasant – challenge. How is it possible to represent with such a sample, the vast wealth of knowledge amassed over so many millennia? How may one portray all of the peoples of the elves of air? Can I deal justice to the lost cultures of the Aquillas and Vermillion elves, those slain in their entirety by the vast Empire of Man, and show also the culture of the Loresti, whom until so recently we believed also destroyed?
The answer is simple: I cannot. There is no way which I can see here to present even a fraction of that wealth, and it would be arrogance and folly to claim otherwise. Do not consider, thus, that what you see presented here is a representative slice of what is a vast, ancient and complex culture. The Sylvans are the elves of air, and the chaos which binds us together pulls us too in many directions.

I will assume, from the interest you have demonstrated by reading thus far, that you already know something of the Sylvan culture. You know of the Council of Twelve, the leaders of each of the twelve bloodlines, and of the Speaker, the wise leader who draws us together. You know perhaps of the swordsinger’s art, of the dedication and skill of the mages of the Clave, even perhaps of the gift and the calling of the Pure Ones. Perhaps you seek to understand us further, or search for the answer to a problem. Or perhaps you look for entertainment, or knowledge simply for its own sake. Whichever, I hope you find that which you seek. I pen this introduction, translating word by painstaking word, in the hope that it shall fulfil these expectations, and more.

The relationship between the Sylvan elves and the younger races - now the dominant leaders of Erdreja – has been long and fraught. When first we met, the peoples of Sylvan held themselves apart from the younger races, not involving ourselves in their business. This proved to be a most costly mistake. When the humans fought against the elves of Loresti and Vermillion, they counted both us and the likewise peaceful elves of Aquillas, among their enemies, drawing this early encounter between our races into the bloodiest war in either of our histories. We do not truly know the origins of this war: we merely - and barely - survived it. And now we return, to find that although much of the hatred and discrimination we have known has ended, the ignorance of us has grown. Perhaps as a result of our non-intervention, perhaps as a result of the Empire of Man’s destructive urges – most likely a result of both – your records and memories of us are all but vanished. We are your forgotten neighbours.

But the spirit of the historian is coming through in me, and I digress. The Galantir blood has long been known as the keepers of the histories, and with this comes a tendency to over-explain. Thus, let me simply conclude that it is my fond hope that this collection will enable questions to be answered, problems to be addressed, and, with luck, allow our cultures to live together, in this word which we all share.

Cathanaleith,
Galantir elf
October 1101 AF


The History of the Sylvan Elves
I was saddened recently to discover how little many erdrejans knew of their own heritage, and how completely our very existence seems to have been expunged from your history books. I observed as much to Kellarionlaurial, the Speaker’s Emissary to Erdreja, and in response he has compiled this: a brief history of events leading to the present day.

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The following is the history of the part of the world that has come to be known as the Heartlands. As this covers over nine thousand years, it has been abridged by necessity. It should tell you about us as a people - but may also provide illumination for others as what follows chronicles the events that gave birth to the Factions and the Gathering Treaty.

Once, long ago, the world was younger and more alive than it is today. Birds, beasts, plants and stone were all alive and responded to the words of those that knew their ways. There were fey in that time and there were elves. The fey did rejoice in all they saw and lived in a constant state of childlike wonderment. The elves also rejoiced in what they saw but sought to craft, develop and study. There was no strife in those days bar the demons of the Void who coveted the preciousness of creation. It is sad to say that some elves did long after the power of the demons and gave themselves to them. These elves became known as the 'shadow' elves (not the same as drow) and many left - or were cast out of the light - to make their own dwelling elsewhere.

In that time, the Elves did make the First City using ways and means that are lost to even the oldest ones in the world. Many and great were the wonders that were crafted in this city. However, greatest of all the wonders was the shaping of the Tomes of Earth, Air, Fire and Water for they embodied the fundamental elements of creation within them. Little is known about the manner the Tomes were created in. However, what is known is the name of four of the elves that took part in the shaping of them. Their names were: Rulien, Lento, Beltano and Yarinrill.

Tragically, and for reasons that are still shrouded in mystery, whilst the First City was at the height of its power great forces ravaged the land. A Cataclysm you call it now. The terrible forces broke and scattered the people of the First City and around it. Some groups of elves managed to flee into the Void protected by powerful magics. Others were cast into demi-planes. It became known as the Sundering for the elven peoples would never be the same again.

Dark times followed as each group of elves that had been scattered by the Sundering had to adapt and survive. This wrought changes upon each of them and great differences began to emerge. Also in this time was the first recorded encounter with a Drow. At the time, the sundered elves saw them as an extreme form of their changed selves, yet others have come to wonder if they were not something else completely. None amongst the Sylvan know the answer for - even back then - the Drow did guard their secrets closely and told little to any that were not Drow.

The Dark times continued for time without record. However, they came to an end eventually as Four Kingdoms emerged like beacons of light to offer shelter to elven kind. There were the kingdoms of Lorest, Vermillion and Aquillias. There was also the kingdom of Sylvan.

The kingdom of Sylvan was founded by an elf named Alisthan who could trace his bloodline back to Rulien, one of the Tomemakers. Alisthan united Twelve Bloodlines by dint of his birthright and by the Tome of Air that he bore. They founded their Kingdom in the place that is now known as Lyonesse on the maps of Erdreja.

The Twelve Bloodlines of the Sylvan were the Rulien, the Lento, the Beltano, the Ranalyin, the Yarinrill, the Laranillar, the Galantir, the Laurial, the Narine, the Sallirna, the Tarallin, and the Garnier. In the kingdom of Sylvan it was learned that during the Sundering and the Dark times, much of the life and light had been torn from the land. So - as a people - our forefathers strived long and hard to try and restore it. Invoking the energies within had some limited effect but it soon became clear to them that the world could not be restored to the way it was before the Sundering.

In that time, the Kingdom of Sylvan came into contact with the Celtaii Fey and the other three elven kingdoms that had also been built around a recovered Tome. In those times, there were some misunderstandings and strife for it took time to realise the changes that the Sundering had wrought. However, peaceful agreement was reached and the Treaty of Estel was crafted to support the Four Elven Kingdoms and the Celtaii Fey.

There was peace and harmony for centuries upon centuries. Though it was only a reflection of the greatness of the First Age, the Second had attained its own sense of worth. Colleges of Magic were set up in each of the Four Kingdoms to focus on the study of the Four Elemental Tomes.

It is hard to say how long things might have continued thus but - in this time - change came with the emergence of the Younger Races.
The Sylvan histories are unclear as to how or where they came from. The Elves of Vermillion were reportedly the first to meet the Uruks and Ologs of green skin. That first meeting is not in our records but it did not go well and the tone was set for a long ongoing war whereby the Uruks and Ologs would periodically invade Vermillion in force, taking and destroying.

With humans, however, the story is even less clear for the Sylvan Kingdom encountered them long after the other three Kingdoms had. In the Kingdom of Lorest, the primitive humans were accepted readily and the elves sought to act as teachers to them. In the Kingdom of Aquillias, the primitive humans were approached with caution although the neighbouring Celtaii Fey embraced them warmly, which mollified the Aquillians. In the Kingdom of Vermillion, beset by battle, the primitive humans were conscripted into fighting in servant armies or into building and working for the Vermillion elves.

The first encounter the Sylvans had with humans was at the Quinannual Council of Estel. The Loresti brought human guests. The Aquillians brought human retainers. The Vermillion brought human servants. After overcoming surprise and curiousity, the Sylvan Bloodline Council met and discussed the issue. It was decided that - just as the Elves and Fey had sought their own path and learned in that way - so too the humans should grow and develop in their own way without our interference. So the Sylvan Kingdom resolved to have no interaction with the humans - one way or another.

At this point, I would like to note that it is unclear from the Sylvan histories just exactly how much was known about the internal affairs of the other Elven Kingdoms. How much of the Sylvan decision was based on ignorance of the treatment of humans by the other nations, and how much was done in acceptance, is unclear. Nevertheless, the records show that the Sylvan Bloodline Council and the Speaker believed that they were acting in the best interests of all concerned.

Time passed and the Younger Races grew and changed more rapidly than had been seen before. However, the Sylvans knew little of this. Some rumours came that a human nation was developing to the west of Aquillias with the help of the Celtaii Fey. At the Last Council of Estel, the Celtaii Fey came forth and proposed that the humans be given a nation and a voice on the Council of Estel. It was in keeping for the Fey of the time to make such bold proposals without advance consultation. The Sylvan Bloodline Council had no foundation upon which to make a decision and abstention was not permitted. So the Sylvan Elves sought the counsel of the other Kingdoms.

From each Kingdom, the message was the same. The humans were too young. Too rash. Too hasty. They lacked sufficient wisdom at that time to govern themselves in a peaceful fashion. In time they would learn these lessons as the elves and the fey had, but that time was not yet.

The Sylvan Elves took these words and considered them. So - when it came to the Council - each of the Elven Kingdoms stated their answer as "no".

It is a sign of the hastiness of humans and fey of that time that they took the word "no" and - rather than hearing it as "not yet" - chose to hear it as "never". The fey stormed out of the Council of Estel and withdrew all support for it.

Strife followed.

Rumour of the events of the Council got back to the human servant armies of the Vermillion Elves. They rebelled and the internal conflict - compounded by a renewed assault by the Uruks and Ologs - tore the Kingdom of Vermillion apart. The Ologs claimed the Tome of Earth for their own.

The men of Celtaii reinforced their fledgling nation and annexed the Elves of Aquillias. The Aquillians appealed to the Celtaii Fey who shunned them. The humans attacked Aquillias and the Aquillians were forced into a compact with the Dwarves and the Drow of the area to preserve themselves.

In Lorest, the humans broke into the Tower of Magic in the city of Ithilanos and stole the Tome of Fire. They then attacked in force, turning on their former teachers and guides. They used the Tome of Fire to create the Incantation Device that used the power of Incantation to slay those of the Elder Races. This included the Celtaii Fey who realised what they had allied with and withdrew their support again.

Throughout all of this the Sylvan Kingdom watched in dismay. The decree of the Speaker had been that the Sylvans would not interfere with the humans as they sought to shape their own destiny. That decree was bitterly tested as the humans slew the kindred of the Elves.

Some of the Sylvan Bloodlines opted to act independently of the Bloodline Council - as is their right - and went to intervene on their own merits. The Ranalyin, Yarinrill and Lento Bloodlines took forces to Lorest. All sustained terrible casualties from the human troops. The Lento Blood in particular suffered as a result of the Incantation Device, which slew them in their hundreds making them live out their lifespan of centuries in mere hours. It was the High Mage of the Lento Bloodline that led the Great Ritual that employed the remaining Tomes to banish the power of Incantation from the surface world.

The Larinallar and Garnier Blood took ships to Aquillias Elves but it was to no avail. Though once Aquillias was well and truly defeated, the men of Celtaii returned to their old ways and formed tribes and clans, battling one another for power. Government through violence - as the Elven Kingdoms had feared.
In the Southlands, however, a human named Tebron was not content and held on to control of his forces in the defeated Kingdom of Lorest. Taking those same forces, he marched on the Sylvan Kingdom and laid siege to Obsidia. Though the Incantation device no longer worked, Tebron still had the Tome of Fire and a new weapon of fear. A group known as Enforcers - that the Elves came to fear under the name of Deathcloaks - marched forth to wipe out every elf that they encountered. Scullion the librarian was one of these and still wears his Deathcloak. You need only ask him of its significance.

In a bid to maintain the Speaker's Decree, and to preserve themselves from Tebron's aggression, the Sylvan Elves devised a ritual to hide themselves away from the eyes of men. However, to preserve all the Sylvan Elves and refugees, the ritual would require the Tome of Air, which lay in the city of Obsidia.

Though an attempt was made to retrieve the Tome, Obsdia fell to the humans, the Deathcloaks and to Tebron and they took the Tome of Air as well. The recounting of this is told in a fragment of the journal of the last Council Member of the Rulien Blood as he readied himself for what was to come. For the ritual to preserve the Sylvan Elves from the Empire of Man could be done - albeit weaker - if they had time that the Deathcloaks would not allow them. The last Council Member of the Rulien Blood vowed that the Sylvan Elves would have that time, even if it cost the lives of all of the Blood.

As the Rulien Blood had forged the Sylvan Kingdom from the Dark times, so they sacrificed themselves en mass to buy time for the Shrouding Ritual to take place. Tale has it that the courage and the bravery of the Rulien Blood in that final battle was such that Tebron feared them and it was then that he declared the Empire's First law: The Empire is Mother, the Empire is Father, Suffer Not An Elf To Live.

The ritual was successful and a Barrier was raised that protected some of the Sylvan Elves - but sadly not all. The price was the Tomes, the Elven Kingdoms, the Peace of Estel and lives of every male, female and child of the Rulien Blood.

Epilogue
In the thousand years since the birth of the Empire of Man, the Sylvan Elves have lain behind the Barrier to the west of Lyonesse. A thousand years is a long time, even for our kind, and so we are the grandchildren of those who fought in what is known as the Race Wars. We could only watch in horror as the Empire of Man broke our people and pushed them into small, scattered groups that would pose them no threat. We despaired as the Empire abused power to the extent of causing a Cataclysm that destroyed them.

Yet now a new age has come into the world, an age where nations can rise and fall on their own merits and it is safe to be an elf once more. So the Sylvan Elves have come forth again with a desire to make our own way in this world. We seek a land to call our home where we can rule ourselves and seek our own destiny, as we believe others should be allowed to seek theirs.


The Final Blow
(excerpt from the journal of Teiron of the Rulien Blood)

The original copy of Teiron’s journal was lost in Erdreja many centuries ago, by one of my blood, the Galantir, who often requested permission to travel beyond the barrier in hopes of rediscovering the lost elves: the Rulien, the Aquillas, the Vermillion, the Loresti. Tragically, Calaran foolishly took the original of this treasured work for inspiration, and it was believed destroyed when Calaran was murdered by members of the drow. This fragment was only recently rediscovered by Tieron’s descendent, Celadore of the Rulien blood. The importance of the incident outlined below cannot be overestimated: without Teiron’s sacrifice and bravery, the elves of Sylvan would have been entirely exterminated.

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I can still recall the many lessons taught to me by Erion when I thought I wished to be a Swordsinger. Though ultimately it proved that I lacked the discipline to be wedded to the blade, much of what I learned in that time remains with me. After a long-training session, there was a long talk about various target points on an adversary. Where to strike and how to inflict the most harm without compromising one's own stance and defence. Where to strike so as the blade could pass the armour rather than have to do battle with it.
Erion said nothing that he did not also show us. Flowing from strike to strike, displaying cut and parry with equal fluidity as though he had not just been working us to exhaustion. Arm strikes, leg strikes, chest strikes and even the ill-regarded head strikes. There was not a single form that was unknown to him.
After he had finished, Erion asked us of all the blows that there were, which was the only one that a Swordsinger had to fear. We gave our answers duly. To the eyes? The heart? The neck? The lungs? We expected to be wrong but Erion nodded. They were all blows to be wary of and could be the one to fear. For the one blow to fear is the final blow. The one that kills you.
A Swordsinger could take any blow that was dealt to them so long as the final blow belonged to them and not to their enemy.
It was in the study of my manor in the Silver City when that lesson was made clearer to me than ever before. I cannot even recall the text I was reading at the time. Not a word of it was going in. Not that I had expected it to. I was merely attempting to pass the time while I waited.
So it was when Neir came to my study. As the person I was waiting for, a measure of my expectation was completed. What he had to tell me was, however, not in the least what I had expected.
"Teiron," he said, the only introduction he gave to the five words that were our undoing, "The humans have the Tome."
They were the words that sounded the Final Blow for our land.
That the humans had been winning the war was clear to all. Even then we could have stood strong had not the Uruks overrun our brethren in their land. Maybe then we could have stood strong had not the Fey betrayed us by withholding their aid. Maybe then we could have stood strong were it not for the cursed Incantation Device. Yet right to the last we knew that we would survive for we had the Tome of Air, the most powerful of all the Tomes of Magic.
Now that too was lost to us. Worse than that, it was in the hands of our foes.
"Why did Allirin not destroy the Tome rather than let it fall into the hands of those that will destroy us?" asked Neir, the tiniest hint of despair creeping into his voice.
Though the question was rhetorical, I recall answering him.
"The Creation of the Tomes was one of the most sacred times in all history. It was an event like no other, set in a time like no other. They are some of the single most precious things in all the Void. To destroy such a thing would be to betray all that has made us what we are. "We have held the Tome of Air for countless centuries and for all that we have studied it and learned of it, we could not even begin to copy it or shape another in its likeness. No. There is not a Clave alive that would conscience such an act.
"Furthermore, to do so could even be worse than to have it in the hands of our foes. Recall your histories. The Creation of the Tomes did cause a Cataclysm. What do you think the result be will if they are destroyed?"
"So," began Neir, his weakness still on display in the most shameful way, "what hope is there for us?"
From the moment that Neir had uttered the fateful five words, the whole of the future had slowly unfolded before me. I knew with a cold certainty what it would be.
"The ritual will still be attempted - but without the Tome. So it will be that we cannot all be spared. You will go and lots will be drawn to see if you shall live or die. However, the Blood Rulien know their duty and we shall be the shield that spares you from the Final Blow."
The expression on Neir's face just filled me with more contempt for him. In his sycophantic manner, he thanked me. He even offered to pray for me - but I bade him keep his filthy habits to himself. We each went our ways and I never knew which lot he drew. For my part, I gathered my forces and went forth. On the way, I recounted Erion's lesson to me. I then sought to recall all the other things I learned from him. Though I had not wedded my sword, we would die as one.
So now I wait for the human forces to come. Strong in the knowledge that though my fate is sealed, we might still buy with our blood, a future for the Elves.


The Tale of Ranal and the Whispering Blade

The story of Ranal’s struggle: to achieve greater than any thought possible, to discover a new path to wisdom, and, of course, to “get the girl”, is an old one which has inspired many, and its reference fell into common parlance long before the coming of the Empire of Man and the raising of the barrier.
The path of the Swordsinger is the youngest such discipline, but no less difficult, nor prestigious.

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Once, in the time of Alisthan and the Reawakening of the Elves, yet before the Treaty of Ithil, there was an elf named Ranal.
There was no other elf in all the Sylvan Kingdom like Ranal for - though he sought to embrace the power of the air - he tried to walk the path without any study of magic or the ways of the school.
For Ranal sought to become an embodiment of air in himself and worked and strived till no elf was swifter or more nimble than Ranal and none could match him in swordplay.
Yet Ranal found that he could not dance as free and as fast as the air for his heart lay heavy within him and held him down.

"Wherefore is your heart heavy?" asked Ranal's friend, Yoran, "You could be living wind but for that."
"My dear friend, my heart lies heavy for it is filled with love."
"Yet does not love bring lightness to the heart?"
"Maybe that would be so if I did not love Alyin."
Yoran then understood as Alyin was the daughter of the Speaker and his greatest treasure and it was well known that an elf would have to have greatness in his blood 'ere he could woo her.
"There is greatness in your blood," said Yoran, "Yet it will not be seen while your heart is heavy, and your heart will e'er be heavy while your greatness remains unseen."
Ranal nodded gravely as he acknowledged that trap that he found himself within and he sought some other means by which he could show the greatness in his blood.
However, there was more that Ranal could not speak of for he knew that Yoran would not understand.
When he did come to practice with his blade, Ranal would hear the sword that the blade would make as it sliced through the air and there were times - on the very edge of hearing - that Ranal swore he could hear whispers in the wind.

In that time, there was strife betwixt the Strong Elves and the Ugly Ones and the strife had been long and heartfelt and the Strong Elves did seek aid from afar.
So it was that the Speaker of Sylvan went forth to meet with the Strong Elves and seek to aid them in their plight. However, the Burning Elves did also respond to the call of the Strong Elves and so too did the Sea Elves. There was little love lost between the Wind Elves and the Burning Elves and - though they both desired to aid the Strong Elves against the Ugly Ones - there was disagreement as to how.
"Our situation," said the Strong Elves, "is that four-score Ugly Ones have come forth to make mockery of our renewal and we have not the strength to repel them all without great loss."
"You need not fear," spake the Burning Elves, "for we shall catch each and ever last one."
"There is no need for you to waste your time," responded the Speaker, "for the Wind Elves have the might that you need."
"Mayhap," suggested the Sea Elves, "our four kinds might unite in this matter lest the Ugly Ones despoil the Renewal for each us."
"We can catch more than a score!" declared the Burning Elves.
"Wouldst though care to wager on that?" responded the Speaker.
Thus it came to pass that e'en before the Treaty of Ithil, small warbands of Burning Elves, Sea Elves, Wind Elves and Strong Elves did set forth in unity against the Ugly Ones - and Ranal did go with them.
Following the trail of destruction and barbary, the Elven groups did come across the Ugly Ones camped in large number and they did ready themselves for the catching.
The Wind Elves and the Burning Elves did agree that each would mark those that they had caught that it would be recorded which of them won the wager.
Yet before the conflict did begin, the Speaker did turn to Ranal and spoke to him.
"I know you and I know the potential for greatness that you carry within you, yet I cannot allow you to woo my daughter until that greatness is seen," he said, "So I promise you that if you are part of the victory over the Ugly Ones and Burning Elves this day, that shall stand as testimony enough."
At those words, Ranal felt great lightness within and the heaviness in his heart departed and was replaced by a bold and daring hope.

The catching began and soon all beings, Burning Elves, Sea Elves, Strong Elves, Wind Elves and Ugly Ones were caught in the maelstrom.
Yet the roaring wildness did not touch Ranal for he was already moving and in movement was life and he moved as the wind itself. In the rush of the wind, Ranal listened to the whispers of his blade and he heard the words, heard the music and heard the singing. Again and again and again and again he struck no longer relying on knowledge or the wisdom of others but instead listening to the singing of his blade.

Then stillness.

The catching was over and the elves had triumphed over the Ugly Ones and all that remained was the counting of the caught.
The Strong Elves had caught a perfect score with not one higher or lower.
The Burning Elves were great and mighty and had caught twenty-one of the Ugly Ones.
Yet Ranal, the Speaker and the Wind Elves did catch a full twenty-two of the Ugly Ones.
It was left to the Sea Elves - who were great of heart and compassion - to catch the remaining seventeen.
Great joy descended upon the Strong Elves for they had defeated the Ugly Ones one more time.
Great also was the joy of the Speaker for he did win his wager against the Burning Elves.
Yet greatest was the joy in Ranal's heart for he had been as air and achieved his greatness.
Thus Ranal did woo and wed Alyin and the Ranalyin Blood was born into legend and produced the finest warriors in the four kingdoms as the Scions of Ranal did learn to hear the song of their blades.
Furthermore, it was that the dilemma that Ranal had once found himself - where he needed to have greatness to be able to obtain greatness - became known as the Catching Of Twenty-Two.


The Scions of Rulien

Shortly after the massacre at Obsidia and the death of the Rulien blood, the Lady Chrastha of the Narine blood had a powerful vision revealing to her this prophesy that the Rulien would one day return. Not all were convinced of the truth of her words until the summer of 1101AF, when – by serendipitous chance - the Lord Kellarionlaurial and myself discovered that Lord Celadore was the Great Enchanter named. Since that time two others believed to be of the Rulien blood have made themselves known to us – the Lords Corsair and Edrin. The phrasing of some aspects of the Prophesy has caused some confusion, but not even the Narine claim that they are perfect.

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The Ashes of Defeat shall fuel a new Forging Flame,
The Seeds of Tomorrow shall be found in the Earth of Yesterday,
The Lost shall Find something Undiscovered,
And the oldest wound shall be healed.

The Enchanter shall come with power and knowledge,
Though he will be ignorant of his past.
The power to command to the Elements is his,
And he shall use them to restore what was taken.

The Warrior shall come with courage and skill,
Though his heritage will go unseen.
He will favour the blade and be matchless in valour,
And he will slay the enemies of the people.

The Herald shall come with vision and wisdom,
Though he considers himself to be forsaken.
Erdrejans will heed him whenever he speaks,
And he will lead the people to their New Destiny.

From the root of three shall a New Beginning be formed,
During a time of strife and war.
A bloodline will rise, a bloodline will fall.
The Kingdom of the Sylvan shall be seen on Erdreja once more.


Obsidia

During the War, many refugees flooded into the city of Obsidia, our last and most powerful line of defence against the Emperor Tebron and his armies. Also in Obsidia was the tome of Air we created and treasured, and with whose power we hoped to build the Great Barrier to protect all surviving elves.
Alas, the drain of the refugees, and the sheer numbers of the Empire of Man’s armies, overwhelmed the defenders. What reinforcements could be mustered arrived only in time to see the defilement and desecration of those they had hoped to protect. In blind rage and grief they attacked, and they too were massacred. This lament was written some years later, by the Lord Leiron, the current Speaker, and one of the few soldiers to survive the day.
Even I, some four generations removed from this atrocity, find it very difficult to think of that day without anger. It is safe to say that when a Sylvan fears a human, that Sylvan remembers Obsidia.

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A city stood so grand and tall, a proud and wondrous place
A seat of art and learning, a symbol of our race
And all this world is lessened now, to lose without a trace
The beauty of Obsidia

Not just a home for learned men, a seat of wealth and power
Our last hope for survival lay ensconced within her tower
Then Tebron marched his army west, intent he would devour
The glory of Obsidia

Her people rush to her defence, with hearts and courage true
Though the enemy outnumber them, and our forces are few
Along the line there came the cry “No human shall pass through!”
The last stand of Obsidia

The Sylvans watch in terror at the army drawing near
They wear their Deathcloaks proudly, an honour they hold dear
Their wicked chant cuts through the air, a song of hate and fear
The deathknell of Obsidia

Now corpses line the battlements they fought so hard to hold
While Tebron feasts on Elven blood and counts his stolen gold
The Deathcloaks murder everyone, with hearts and steel so cold
The children of Obsidia

A noble house lays down their lives, for all our sakes they must
As now the elves pay dearly for hope and misplaced trust
The embers of our once-proud world lie dead within the dust
In the ashes of Obsidia

 

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