on Friday, January 4






Just thought I'd post my assignments for a comp I'm in called Elven Spirit :P

Quest 1 - How elf was born

Necromancers and some mages are well known to meddle with the dark arts, raising the dead and commanding them to their will; but never had any being with magic flowing through their veins attempted to create a creature out of thin air. Until one fateful day.

Two of the greatest mages in all of Illithile, a Grey elf by the name of Lathai and Arius the Feral elf, turned their backs on their own people when they forbade them to practice a new, but highly dangerous, spell. They were determined and arrogant, which led them to recluse themselves in a forgotten forest.

Years past, and every experiment of theirs failed horribly; attempting to transform a common animal into a human-like species seemed like an incorrigible act by now. They pondered; trying every spell they could think of and creating new ones in the process didn’t seem to do anything. They needed some connection to a human, some form of genome to complete the spell. As they thought, a brown nightingale flew overhead; Lathai pointed his finger and the bird dropped from the air immediately. “We will use this.” Lethai spoke in his ancient tongue, only known by a handful of elves in the province of Illithile.

“This insignificant thing? You must be joking, the soul in this bird wouldn’t conjure an ant!” Lathai ignored his fellow mage and stepped towards the stone table the bird lay unconscious on; without a second thought he sliced his hand with his dagger, squeezing a droplet of his elven blood next to the little creature. Perplexed, Arius followed suit after the Grey elf motioned him to; he cut his hand and squeezed his rare Feral blood onto the table and stepped back.

Lethai immediately began to conjure a spell to capture the soul of the nightingale and mix it with the two elves blood; Arius joined and soon all there was to be seen was a large explosion of fire. An elf, covered in fire and feathers, rose above the stone tablet; the mages readied their spells in shock, unsure of what this being was capable of. Could they have really created a being with the soul of a nightingale? The created beings feathers slowly fell off, leaving a pure Drow elf for the mages to gawk at. “A Drow elf? How so?” Arius questioned. Before Lathai could respond, the Drow elf encased itself in a tornado of fire, attempting to destroy his own creators.
As the firey winds died, the elf stood still as a board, observing the two unharmed mages before him. “Cruentus Lomelinde, Blood Red Nightingale.” Lathai smiled at his creation; the Drow cast a powerful fire spell at him, which was only to be dispersed easily by the ancient mages powers. “Very impressive.” The Grey elf smiled before disappearing with Arius into the shadows of the forest, never to be seen again.

Quest 2 - What scars elf has (emotional/physical etc)

Staring at the wet cavern walls, sitting on the cold stone that covered his home, Cruentus gazed into the abyss. Still as a statue the endless thoughts tormented his mind; his creators must die, he cannot live with the thought of those monsters taking another breath. They must die for what they did! His stone figure broke as he lashed out in anger and sorrow, throwing his arms up and braiding his fingers forcefully through his hair. Echoes of the screams he let out filled the cave as he tried to rid himself of the pain.

As he calmed he dropped his arms, breath still rapid and heavy from the outburst. Why must he have so much anger resonating inside? He looked down at his arm; a barely visible mark, just slightly lighter than his skin, almost glowed in the dim firelight. This was the mark they left behind on him, the mark that showcased who he really was. To him it was dirty, the mark of evil, and he wanted so desperately to rid himself of it.

Unconsciously he began to scratch at it, the vivid memories of his birth flashed before his eyes as he dug deeper into his own flesh. He was evil, he was dirty, he had no place in this world.

He needed to die.

Stricken with grief and anger, he snatched one of the various poisons he had made with the surrounding undergrowth, and ran out into the moonlight. The bleak forest in front of him seemed to freeze at his gaze; the wind was still, the only sound that could be heard was the light hum of the fireflies buzzing above. Without another thought he drank the blood red poison and dropped to the ground. His wound gushed as his heart quickened, and soon his vision blurred and faded out to darkness.
‘If only I wasn’t immortal...’ he thought before entering his deep slumber.