Relative Liberty
24-11-2005, 19:53
''Come here, young man, and listen to my tale. It is a story of greed, of power and might, of treachery and noble deeds but most of all it is the story of the Black People, the Caer'no-dein, the Dark Elves and any and every other name you may have for my people. Come and listen and take heed of what this story tells you, or you will all perish as our vast hordes roam the earth searching for sacrifices worthy our mighty god.''
''To the far east, in the heart of the vast ash deserts of Nagger, on the banks of the loch Ael'ver Don, lies the black fortress of Caer'no-dein El'Nochow; the home of the Caer'no-dein, or Dark Elves as they known to outsiders. They are fierce race, a warlike people and the worthy servants of their god. Their delicate features and melodic tongue are misleading, and many a foe has payed dearly for underestimating their strnegth and determination. They retain the fair skin and small statue of the High Elves, but the ashes of their kingdom has covered them in a thin layer of dust. Their eyes glow red with hatred, and they disdain every other species that walk the earth.''
''The history of the Caer'no-dein begins over a thousand years ago, with the creation of the Caer'al-efey El'Amrar. The Caer, or High Elves, shared a common ancestry with Men but has long been separated from their distant cousins. The Caer, led by their king Aler Mala settled on the banks of Ael'ver Don, in what was then the ancient forests of Calader Al'Amer, and built there the white city of Caer'al-efey Al'Amrar, with high walls of whitest marble, decorated with gold and silver. In the centre stood a single white tower, made out of an ancient mountain, carved out over hundreds of yeras by wind and rain. There they made their temples, from the top of the tower the king ruled over all the land as far as the eye could see. Their valiant troops conquered the petty human tribes in the area, enslaved them and took them to their Elven city to toil for their new masters.
This blessed practice continued for nearly five hundred years, but as the old king Henalen died, his two sons fought over the golden throne of their father. Arwalen was the cunniest one, and through guile and desception he succeeded his father and claimed the throne of Caer'al-efey Al'Amrar as his own while his older brother Eirendil was banished from the lands. But Eirendil was an honourable man, and he would not have his rightful seat taken by an usurper, and so he went into hiding in the mountains from which he unleashed terrible ash storms upon the White City. Legions of demons and dark creatures were spawned within the fiery forges of the burning mountains and army after army of dark shades and lumbering giants were sent forth to smash down the puny walls of the White City. In secrecy he recruited the Free Men as mercenaries, the trolls of the mountains and the goblins of the forests, the beasts of the land and the hawks from the highest peaks in the Shrouded Cliffs. The dark host of Men equipped with swords and armour forged out of the black metals of the mountains, trolls towering above the battle lines and eagle riders armed with bows and jagged javelins, poured down the mountainside, crashed through the forests and marched over the plains. Their ranks stretched to the horizon, their numbers were uncountable and their march made the earth quake and sounded like deafening thunder to the ears of the High Elves.''
''The host of the High Elves marched to meet them on the field of battle, led by the Arwalen the Deceiver. Their army was vastly outnumbered by the noble followers of Eirendil, but theirs were the allegiance of the many wicked witch elves of the east, the fanatical followers of the pagan gods. Devotees of the god of war, Hernaq, the witches wielded poisoned blades, cruel maces and flails and whips. Their war dance and howling madness strengthened the resolve of the defenders who formed a wall of shields and spears pointed at the warriors of Eirendil. Arrows darkened the sky and the field was coloured red with Elven blood even before the melee began, as the archers on both sides fired volley after volley of arrows and the skirmishers threw their javelins at the enemy ranks. But at last the lines met, Eirendils swordsmen crashed into the lines of the usurper's followers, throwing the men in the shieldwall away as easily as though they were mere dolls. As the righteous forces of Eirendil pushed forward though, the witch elves joined the battle and, wielding sharp daggers and short swords in both hands, the attack slowly grinded to a halt. Eirendil ordered his phalanxes forward, forminga solid battleline that would contain the enemy counter-attack while his swordsmen retreated to safer positions. As the lines clashed once again the eagles swept down from the sky upon the foe, their riders throwing their javelins and firing their arrows. The swordsmen, tired as they were but always loyal to their great and noble ruler, hurried to the flanks to surround the vile foe.
But alas, the noble army of our hero and lord Eirendil was crushed in that very moment. With victory within his reach he was closer to claiming his birthright than ever, the White City and the Elven empire was his for the taking. Oh, but the sorcery and witchcraft of his villainous brother cost us him the battle, as the arrows of the foe catched fire, and flaming arrows raines upon the heads of the brave soldiers of Eirendil. The soldiers couldn't fight sorcery of this kind, and Eirendil ordered the troops to fall back and reatreat from the field of battle.''
''But inside the White City the wretched humans had seized the moment as their masters were gone, they threw off their encumbering fetters, grabbed whatever weapon they found and marched upon the White Tower itself. And as the elven victors and kinsmen of the usurper Arwalen returned from the field of battle they found their city ablaze and their homes reduced to ashes. The High Elves took vengeance upon the insubordinate slaves, and set out to rebuild their fair home in another country, for they could no longer stay in the dear lands of Nagger while the righteous Eirendil still roamed the countryside with his band of loyal warriors.''
''Five years later Eirendil once again returned to the site of the White City, prepared for yet another battle. As he found the once oh so beautiful city reduced to smoldering ashes and dust, he fell bitter tears of blood and cried out to the gods a terrible oath: that he and his kin would forever hunt the humans for burning the White City, and forever would they wage war against the High Elves for leaving their slaves unattended. And he commanded his followers that on the site of their beloved home would their be built a monument so terrible that all the folks in all the lands shall tremble with fear, and the very Earth itself shall cry out in despair. Thus was the Black Empire of Caerwar-dein Nomar built out of the burnt marble of their former homes and the ashes of their forests, and the people called themselves the Dark Elves to be ever reminded of that terrible night when their home was wiped from the face of the Earth. And they turned to the worship of Etrikai, the lord of Death, to aid them in this quest, and many were the sacrifices that that day painted the streets of their newly built city red with blood.
To honour their new god, they formed the order of the Witch Elves; taking the name of the devotees of the pagan gods that ensured The Deceiver's victory in the Battle of the White City. The new order however, are loyal subjects to their king and their god, being ruled by six High Priestesses handpicked by the Witch King.''
''It is the Witch Elves' duty to pick out those to be sacrificed from the scores of slaves and captives that are taken to the Black City, and then to sacrifice them when the moon is full. On that night those chosen are lead up the stairs of the ziggurat Ler Naloch where the High Priestesses waits besides a single block of stone, knife in hand and their faces covered by terrible masks; ready to do their sacred work and cut the still beating heart of the chosen ones.
The High Priestesses answer to none but the Witch King and their god, and woe the man who would defy them for they shall surely suffer a fate worse than death, aye worse yet than anything you can possibly imagine. Each hold different titles and administer one of the seven districts each, the seventh and final being under the direct control of the Witch King himself. They maintain their own police force and militia, and are obliged to supply the Witch King's raiding parties with Witch Elves and conscripts, this is hardly a problem since all Dark Elves bear an eternal hatred for other races and will gladly follow, and those who don't rarely live long enough to cause trouble.
So young man, go now and spread the word. Tell your kin that doom is coming to your lands, that Death itself roams the land in the guise of the Caer. You will all die...''
The story of the Dark Elves, as told by a captured warrior
The Dark City is divided into seven districts, with the Black Tower and it's surroundings being the central seventh district and ruled directly by the Witch King and his Dark Guard. The six others are governed by the High Priestesses of Etrikai, who are charged with maintaining law and order and to administer monthly sacrifices to the Lord of Death. To find sacrifices the Witch King organizes raids against other folks, and the captives are sent home for slavery and later, when they have tired themselves in the mines and in whatever service the Empire might have of them.
The city is surrounded by the high Walls of Death, as foreigners call them, which reach all the way to the heaven and are manned by the loyal militia of our people. Ne'er has the walls been breached, and ne'er shall the Black City fall as long as any militiaman still draws breath behind the coronations.
Inside the walls are the slums, the quarters of the poor and slaves who live as animals and wild beasts. The militia rarely venture into this part of the city, and the area is runned by local gangs and crime lords, though not even they in their pride would be so foolish as to try and stop the Witch Elves when the moon is full and the sacrifices are made.
In the centre stands the Dark Tower, or Black Spire, and many other translations of the Caer word, and from the Witch King rules over all the land unto the very horizon. Palaces and manours of black marble surround the tower, and it is here that the aristocracy resides in its splendour. Here the crime rate is low, and militia men patrol the streets at every moment. It is from these quarters that the cavalry of the Caer are drafted, and many a young noble volunteer for standing military service as a way to gain prestige and riches, for a raider is entitled to keep one tenth of the loot taken by him. Two tenths go to his commander, and three tenths are taken by the Witch Elves while the rest is sent to the powerful Witch King.
The society of the Dark Elves is centred around raiding and military campaigns against their neighbours. Their young are taught from birth to fight and steal, in the slum by growing up by your own and amongst the nobility by renowned masters and teachers. Their architecture reflects this, consisting of jagged spikes and hard lines, preffering the black marble and ashes of their native lands over any foreign materials. The Caer relies on slaves for manual labour, and on raides for providing them with wealth and other resources.
Therefore the Caer are worthy servants of their god, and feared warriors.
OOC: More things to be added later.
Name: Caerwar-dein Nomar
Common name: The Empire of the Dark Elves
God: Etrikai
Alignment: Evil, very evil
Ruler: The Witch King Eirendil
High Priestesses: Nachol, Lashow, Aerbanen, Carwelden, Machwerl and Erlich
Technology: Bronze
''To the far east, in the heart of the vast ash deserts of Nagger, on the banks of the loch Ael'ver Don, lies the black fortress of Caer'no-dein El'Nochow; the home of the Caer'no-dein, or Dark Elves as they known to outsiders. They are fierce race, a warlike people and the worthy servants of their god. Their delicate features and melodic tongue are misleading, and many a foe has payed dearly for underestimating their strnegth and determination. They retain the fair skin and small statue of the High Elves, but the ashes of their kingdom has covered them in a thin layer of dust. Their eyes glow red with hatred, and they disdain every other species that walk the earth.''
''The history of the Caer'no-dein begins over a thousand years ago, with the creation of the Caer'al-efey El'Amrar. The Caer, or High Elves, shared a common ancestry with Men but has long been separated from their distant cousins. The Caer, led by their king Aler Mala settled on the banks of Ael'ver Don, in what was then the ancient forests of Calader Al'Amer, and built there the white city of Caer'al-efey Al'Amrar, with high walls of whitest marble, decorated with gold and silver. In the centre stood a single white tower, made out of an ancient mountain, carved out over hundreds of yeras by wind and rain. There they made their temples, from the top of the tower the king ruled over all the land as far as the eye could see. Their valiant troops conquered the petty human tribes in the area, enslaved them and took them to their Elven city to toil for their new masters.
This blessed practice continued for nearly five hundred years, but as the old king Henalen died, his two sons fought over the golden throne of their father. Arwalen was the cunniest one, and through guile and desception he succeeded his father and claimed the throne of Caer'al-efey Al'Amrar as his own while his older brother Eirendil was banished from the lands. But Eirendil was an honourable man, and he would not have his rightful seat taken by an usurper, and so he went into hiding in the mountains from which he unleashed terrible ash storms upon the White City. Legions of demons and dark creatures were spawned within the fiery forges of the burning mountains and army after army of dark shades and lumbering giants were sent forth to smash down the puny walls of the White City. In secrecy he recruited the Free Men as mercenaries, the trolls of the mountains and the goblins of the forests, the beasts of the land and the hawks from the highest peaks in the Shrouded Cliffs. The dark host of Men equipped with swords and armour forged out of the black metals of the mountains, trolls towering above the battle lines and eagle riders armed with bows and jagged javelins, poured down the mountainside, crashed through the forests and marched over the plains. Their ranks stretched to the horizon, their numbers were uncountable and their march made the earth quake and sounded like deafening thunder to the ears of the High Elves.''
''The host of the High Elves marched to meet them on the field of battle, led by the Arwalen the Deceiver. Their army was vastly outnumbered by the noble followers of Eirendil, but theirs were the allegiance of the many wicked witch elves of the east, the fanatical followers of the pagan gods. Devotees of the god of war, Hernaq, the witches wielded poisoned blades, cruel maces and flails and whips. Their war dance and howling madness strengthened the resolve of the defenders who formed a wall of shields and spears pointed at the warriors of Eirendil. Arrows darkened the sky and the field was coloured red with Elven blood even before the melee began, as the archers on both sides fired volley after volley of arrows and the skirmishers threw their javelins at the enemy ranks. But at last the lines met, Eirendils swordsmen crashed into the lines of the usurper's followers, throwing the men in the shieldwall away as easily as though they were mere dolls. As the righteous forces of Eirendil pushed forward though, the witch elves joined the battle and, wielding sharp daggers and short swords in both hands, the attack slowly grinded to a halt. Eirendil ordered his phalanxes forward, forminga solid battleline that would contain the enemy counter-attack while his swordsmen retreated to safer positions. As the lines clashed once again the eagles swept down from the sky upon the foe, their riders throwing their javelins and firing their arrows. The swordsmen, tired as they were but always loyal to their great and noble ruler, hurried to the flanks to surround the vile foe.
But alas, the noble army of our hero and lord Eirendil was crushed in that very moment. With victory within his reach he was closer to claiming his birthright than ever, the White City and the Elven empire was his for the taking. Oh, but the sorcery and witchcraft of his villainous brother cost us him the battle, as the arrows of the foe catched fire, and flaming arrows raines upon the heads of the brave soldiers of Eirendil. The soldiers couldn't fight sorcery of this kind, and Eirendil ordered the troops to fall back and reatreat from the field of battle.''
''But inside the White City the wretched humans had seized the moment as their masters were gone, they threw off their encumbering fetters, grabbed whatever weapon they found and marched upon the White Tower itself. And as the elven victors and kinsmen of the usurper Arwalen returned from the field of battle they found their city ablaze and their homes reduced to ashes. The High Elves took vengeance upon the insubordinate slaves, and set out to rebuild their fair home in another country, for they could no longer stay in the dear lands of Nagger while the righteous Eirendil still roamed the countryside with his band of loyal warriors.''
''Five years later Eirendil once again returned to the site of the White City, prepared for yet another battle. As he found the once oh so beautiful city reduced to smoldering ashes and dust, he fell bitter tears of blood and cried out to the gods a terrible oath: that he and his kin would forever hunt the humans for burning the White City, and forever would they wage war against the High Elves for leaving their slaves unattended. And he commanded his followers that on the site of their beloved home would their be built a monument so terrible that all the folks in all the lands shall tremble with fear, and the very Earth itself shall cry out in despair. Thus was the Black Empire of Caerwar-dein Nomar built out of the burnt marble of their former homes and the ashes of their forests, and the people called themselves the Dark Elves to be ever reminded of that terrible night when their home was wiped from the face of the Earth. And they turned to the worship of Etrikai, the lord of Death, to aid them in this quest, and many were the sacrifices that that day painted the streets of their newly built city red with blood.
To honour their new god, they formed the order of the Witch Elves; taking the name of the devotees of the pagan gods that ensured The Deceiver's victory in the Battle of the White City. The new order however, are loyal subjects to their king and their god, being ruled by six High Priestesses handpicked by the Witch King.''
''It is the Witch Elves' duty to pick out those to be sacrificed from the scores of slaves and captives that are taken to the Black City, and then to sacrifice them when the moon is full. On that night those chosen are lead up the stairs of the ziggurat Ler Naloch where the High Priestesses waits besides a single block of stone, knife in hand and their faces covered by terrible masks; ready to do their sacred work and cut the still beating heart of the chosen ones.
The High Priestesses answer to none but the Witch King and their god, and woe the man who would defy them for they shall surely suffer a fate worse than death, aye worse yet than anything you can possibly imagine. Each hold different titles and administer one of the seven districts each, the seventh and final being under the direct control of the Witch King himself. They maintain their own police force and militia, and are obliged to supply the Witch King's raiding parties with Witch Elves and conscripts, this is hardly a problem since all Dark Elves bear an eternal hatred for other races and will gladly follow, and those who don't rarely live long enough to cause trouble.
So young man, go now and spread the word. Tell your kin that doom is coming to your lands, that Death itself roams the land in the guise of the Caer. You will all die...''
The story of the Dark Elves, as told by a captured warrior
The Dark City is divided into seven districts, with the Black Tower and it's surroundings being the central seventh district and ruled directly by the Witch King and his Dark Guard. The six others are governed by the High Priestesses of Etrikai, who are charged with maintaining law and order and to administer monthly sacrifices to the Lord of Death. To find sacrifices the Witch King organizes raids against other folks, and the captives are sent home for slavery and later, when they have tired themselves in the mines and in whatever service the Empire might have of them.
The city is surrounded by the high Walls of Death, as foreigners call them, which reach all the way to the heaven and are manned by the loyal militia of our people. Ne'er has the walls been breached, and ne'er shall the Black City fall as long as any militiaman still draws breath behind the coronations.
Inside the walls are the slums, the quarters of the poor and slaves who live as animals and wild beasts. The militia rarely venture into this part of the city, and the area is runned by local gangs and crime lords, though not even they in their pride would be so foolish as to try and stop the Witch Elves when the moon is full and the sacrifices are made.
In the centre stands the Dark Tower, or Black Spire, and many other translations of the Caer word, and from the Witch King rules over all the land unto the very horizon. Palaces and manours of black marble surround the tower, and it is here that the aristocracy resides in its splendour. Here the crime rate is low, and militia men patrol the streets at every moment. It is from these quarters that the cavalry of the Caer are drafted, and many a young noble volunteer for standing military service as a way to gain prestige and riches, for a raider is entitled to keep one tenth of the loot taken by him. Two tenths go to his commander, and three tenths are taken by the Witch Elves while the rest is sent to the powerful Witch King.
The society of the Dark Elves is centred around raiding and military campaigns against their neighbours. Their young are taught from birth to fight and steal, in the slum by growing up by your own and amongst the nobility by renowned masters and teachers. Their architecture reflects this, consisting of jagged spikes and hard lines, preffering the black marble and ashes of their native lands over any foreign materials. The Caer relies on slaves for manual labour, and on raides for providing them with wealth and other resources.
Therefore the Caer are worthy servants of their god, and feared warriors.
OOC: More things to be added later.
Name: Caerwar-dein Nomar
Common name: The Empire of the Dark Elves
God: Etrikai
Alignment: Evil, very evil
Ruler: The Witch King Eirendil
High Priestesses: Nachol, Lashow, Aerbanen, Carwelden, Machwerl and Erlich
Technology: Bronze