sâmbătă, 30 august 2008

Requiem pentru o vara tarzie



Ultimele zile... si senzatia ca este ceva care se sfarseste ca sa nu se mai intoarca niciodata... Poate viata intensa condensata in lunile astea ca-ntr-o conserva nu vrea sa fie aruncata in camara... Poate e teama ca toata caldura, si bucuria, si faptul c-am fost atat de mult impreuna au sa se stearga treptat, pe masura ce frigul ne va alunga in case.
Ce frumoasa a fost vara asta!
Vara prietenilor, a libertatii, a renasterii (la anul astept cadourile tot pe 8 iunie:), a increderii neconditionate in El, vara in care am descoperit intunericul si blandetea din oameni, vara in care am descoperit intunericul si blandetea din mine... Vara in care am inceput sa traiesc din nou, cand am redefinit a trai in termenii pe care i-am visat dintotdeauna, liber, curajos, fara hamuri, lanturi si colivii, alergand peste prerii intinse ca o herghelie de cai salbatici... Vara in care am invins frica... de durere, de moarte, de incertitudine, de inaltime, de inec, de oameni, de a fi descoperita...

De fapt, vara in care mi-am slefuit inima de piatra pana la inima de sange, vara in care am fost mai mult ca niciodata ALIVE!


Iar acum privesc cu recunostinta la toate acestea si ascund un zambet in inima...

vineri, 29 august 2008

Chapter II - The Thas'thali. Diplomacy


The great Thas’thali has reunited for the third time since the beginning of the age of light. There were controversial issues to be debated… The tensed relations with the human civilizations and especially with Priamthal were starting to become a reason of worry and discontent for some Elven Lunthosz. Three of the seven Lunthosz forming the Thas’thali sustained the idea of a nonaggression treaty with Priamthal. Yet, there were many powerful voices that opposed the idea, considering the defying attitude of Priamthal and their territorial pretentions over the mixture lands of Palinesti, a small region next to Silvanesti, with mild climate and long, sunny autumns that were famous for their extraordinary effect on the golden vineyards. The Golden wine of Palinesti was one of the best on Atri and one of the many racial prides Elves used to sacredly guard. But Palinesti wasn’t always Elven territory. In the age o f shadows, human nomads from the Middle Lands settled there. They named the place Paldaroth, land of the swamps. Paldaroth was an unwelcoming land, dangerous and savage, haunted by strange beasts and wandering spirits. It was a place of Rubshi and legends said somewhere in Paldaroth there was a hidden door to the Abyss…
The barbarians didn’t come there by their own good will. Igrishes pushed them away from their homeland and the humans, people of the planes, had to start it all over in a place where their enemies felt too uncomfortable to hunt them down. The barbarians tamed the land. They drained the swamps and changed the course of the rivers; they cut down the dark forests and turned the savage relief into fertile planes. Their villages of tents boarded the farms and vineyards; they lived peacefully and traded grains, spices and leather with the Silvanesti Elves. The Elves were content with their neighbors, which, despite their primitivism, brought security and composure in the region. But the outsiders still kept the memory of the evilness of the land and even if accidents or bizarre disappearings were not taking place more often than anywhere else on Atri, they were put right away under the sign of the dark spirits that once cursed the misty woods and swamps of Paldaroth. For many centuries peace reigned over both Paldaroth and Silvanesti. Then Turturi came, the high priestess of Rubshi and started a search for the Abyss portal. There were few untamed places in Paldaroth, but those were indeed terrifying and no living being would adventure in there and get out alive. Yet Turturi dared to step into the forbidden lands… It’s still a mystery what happened with her and her army, but legend says that hoards of dark spirits, calling Rubshi’s name in horrifying ceremonials, came out of the swamps at night and decimated the villages in the neighborhood. These night attacks extended like a plague and soon fear and desolation have spread among those peaceful people. The most skeptical blamed the brotherhood of thieves that attacked even before from time to time in the North… But even they feared the name of Turturi.
In time barbarians left the place and Elves extended to the deserted lands. They pledged it to Demius, changed it name in Palinesti and planted the famous vineyards, Elves were so proud of. There were no violent attacks since Elven sovereignty and the forbidden lands in the hard of Palinesti seemed to bury their secret forever under the sweet coat of tranquility.
But now Priamthal showed a bizarre interest in Palinesti, claiming certain domains to be human territories in their try to reach the forbidden lands. And winds of change started to blow again.
Lemalian tried not to show his discomfort around all these people coming from the highest classes of Elven society and inspiring him to a cold and politically correct distance. Himself coming from the leading family of Qualinesti, the hair of the Pyrurs after the tragic death of his elder brother, Livurbalian, in strange circumstances that the Pyrurs always avoided to discuss, Lem didn’t enjoy at all the icy company of the politicians. Lemalian was 2 years before Phyothas (the age of maturity, around 20 in human years) when it happened, meaning that he was big enough to figure out some of the reasons Liv’s death was covered in silence yet not being an adult, many of his questions remained unanswered. Liv was a magic user, just like Roun. But his passion for magic led him in a close relationship with human mages, wizards of great power, but whom company was not appropriate for an Elven Thosz. Yet, Liv didn’t care and continued to dedicate himself to magic despite the increasing worry and discontent of the family. One day he disappeared leaving a strange note that Lem never red but heard it brought more confusion than perspective into the matter. Rumors were heard that he changed the white robes of good with the red ones, which was totally intolerable for the praisers of Demius. While white robes mages were feared but tolerated and high classed Elves could only practice white magic in restricted limits and as some kind of spiritual development, red and dark robes were practically exiled out of Elven territories. Even when important guests from other races, mages of any kind, but especially red and dark robes were treated with great suspicion. In fact, due to both its mysterious and incomprehensible nature and its seducing power, magic was feared among all the races. And the conservatory Elves never considered it the best occupation for a prince. Lem was close to Liv, he saw the transformations magic produced in him, he understood his passion and he knew his soul. He could never believe his brother could have made an evil choice and when they received the news of Liv’s death in Saligredan, the woods of magic, a place of gathering for magic users in human territories, he was devastated.
Lem thought he could never take over his brother’s dues. Liv grew up as a future Thosz, he understood politics, he was good with strategies and intrigues and his drive for magic only completed his natural talent for leadership. Lem loved to wander freely through the beautiful woods of Qualinesti, he loved his arrows and his bow, he loved to chat, tease and laugh with Roun, his best friend. He enjoyed the sweet game the evening sun played in the rye fields and the slow movement of stars he and Roun could watch for hours, lying on the back and staring at the dark skies. Lem dreamed to live great adventures, but not the kind Liv saw in a trading agreement… He wanted to become a warrior and fight for the cause of Demius. Yet, after Liv’s disappearance, everything changed.
Even now he could hardly hide his anxiety and uneasiness around politicians, men of slippery words and manners that were simply made from a different stuff. And today, he had to represent his family with honor, he was all alone and he never felt more helpless in his entire life. He wished his friend was there, but Roun, though Thosz of Parthanasti, stayed home in Qualinesti having to sustain his first white robe apprentice test with master Tartas.
Suddenly, Lem heard his name spoken clearly in the council.
-Thosz Lemalian of Pyrur, from Qualinesti…
Lemalian rose up and saluted the seven Lunthosz. Then he sat down in his chair and tried to make some sense out of the complicated discussions and arguments he didn’t seem to get.
Should they grant the humans’ free pass in Palinesti, covering with a well done convention the fact that Elven territory was taken away? Should they refuse their pretensions? But that would most certainly lead to war… Priamthal grew year by year in arrogance and power. They were well armed and respected nothing but their own will. A confrontation would mean destruction and death in Palinesti… Elven blood would be shed… Losses would be considerable… But allowing them to pass through Palinesti and granting them a free maneuver aria in the forbidden forests, where they intended to go in search of some irrational superstition, would be more acceptable. But there is, of course, the shame….
But the shame could be covered under the appearance of cooperation…
Yet what if there was some truth, some terrible truth, hidden in the forests? What if they had some information Elves let slip?
But everyone knew humans were driven by their immense vanity and they saw this maneuver more like a demonstration of power for the Elves and their superior attitude and for the gods they seized to praise. They just wanted to show they have no fear and no limit other than death. So, the wise Elves chose to bow their heads and cover the shame in well written words. This way, they should be able to avoid the slaughter humans seemed not to be bothered by and keep good economy in the region. The famous vineyards would also be kept out of the reach of destruction. In the mean time, the Elven army would get prepared to smash future intolerable pretensions from other races.
Lemalian felt waves of fury invading his brain. Human attitude was defying and humiliating. They were not better prepared than the Elves. They had not the strategic masters Elves had nor their experience, nor their intelligence. Elves were better skilled and would have had the first chance in a battle. But the Thas’thali decided to bow in front of those arrogant and self-absorbed brutes… Still, he knew why the Lunthosz took that decision… It was the life they were protecting… If humans wanted to spend their energy hunting shadows and cutting down the forbidden forests, let them do it… After they’ll be done, Elves will grow vineyards and beautiful gardens on the place of the shame. And no Elven blood will be senseless shed…
But in his blood, the voice of the warrior sang a song of hatred and desolation…

The Thas’thali was over. Lemalian felt sad and tired. All he wanted was to go to his chambers and have a good sleep. He descended on the main stairs, made of pure crystal and covered in silver bear fur, wondering how could humans totally ignore beauty and good taste and fret their refined civilisation with the brutality of a muddy boot. Lemalian didn’t have a great taste for luxury nor for phylosophy but theese days did he seem to practice both of them. So, his mind fool of a bitter meditation, he went through the park, heading to the guest house. The garden, conceived in the most elegant Elven style was indeed remarkable. Strictly following the Elven principles of Pure Beauty, it put together in a soft embrace the delicate glitter of a brook, the tall silhouettes of the trees, the mysterious contrasts of light and shadow. Silver lamps hang from the trees, spotting the grass with dragonfly wings. Discrete fountains guarded silently in the corners and crystal statues rose from the foliages. The air carried a slight perfume of fruits and wild flowers. And step by step, Lem felt the spirit of the beauty invading his heart and taking the sorrow away…
Yet, it seemed darker than it should be at that hour, Lem noticed… and there was something else, something he couldn’t point his finger on, but something that made everything feel strange and unreal.
-I must be tired, he said to himself, and hurried up through the ivies. Only that the known footpath seemed to fade away in the darkness. It was, and it was not the same garden he crossed in the morning. And he was all alone… That weird sensation of unreal, of strangeness, like something was wrong in the inner nature of things, came again, giving him chills.
Then, a voice came out of nowhere, changing and wandering, whispering in his ear, whizzing from the trees…
-You should be tired… but I need you awake!
-Who are you? whispered Lem, turning around. Where are you? There was nobody there…
-Well… I am… the one who warns you…
-I like to be looked in the eyes when I am spoken to! Show yourself!
A pair of huge golden eyes suddenly shone in the darkness in front of Lemalian’s face.
-Oh, don’t be scared young warrior! I only wanted to fulfill your wish. I’m looking at you now, are you satisfied?
And laughter exploded from all around, from the foliage, from the earth, from the sky.
-I love to play, the voice continued. I hope this doesn’t offend you, young warrior… Lemalian…
-Who are you? What are you?
-Too many questions… And you don’t seem to listen… Just like your brother!
The darkness became dense, almost liquid. Lem felt it entering his lungs, his skin… He felt a terrible need for fresh air… and a pain in his chest, acute, sharp… He couldn’t breathe. And it was getting so cold he could feel icy needles stinging his face. A fear of death paralized all his senses.
-What do you want from me?
-Oh, now you are listening… your brother was more stubborn… Well, listen then!

The mood for Poetry:) sau Poem de inima vernil No.7 fara 5

Stiu ca n-am mai scris nimc demult (semn ca I got a life:) si ca este cineva care imi reproseaza asta cu fiecare ocazie, asa ca promit sa dau o dare de seama amanuntita asupra verii imediat ce voi avea mai mult timp. Cross my heart.

Pana atunci, citeste printre metafore, my dear...

Vegheaza-mi somnul!
Pe bratul tau lasa-ma sa-mi intind
visele si noaptea.
O, noaptea mea e plina de stele necunoscute
si vraji...
Lasa-ma, lasa-ma sa-ti prind bratul cu un descantec
cum sarpele-si incolaceste prada...
Lasa trupul meu zvelt sa atinga
pamantul ars al trupului tau...

Vegheaza-mi somnul!
Vezi ca focul sa nu se stinga
in ochiul meu inchis,
in inima ta,
in inima mea...




Te caut in gandurile mele,
in ape adanci si-ntunecate.
Unde esti?
Te leagana marea cum isi leagana mortii
pe care niciodata nu-i va mai da-napoi?
Dormi in pace... Umerii tai
de arama
imi vor mai bantui o vreme visele...
Si pentru o vreme mainile tale salbatice
inca-mi vor mai prinde gandul
in bratari barbare...


- Parca as mangaia valurile...
Cred ca asa este sa mori...
Adormi, adormi si nu vrei
sa te mai trezesti...
- Sa te legene marea, ti-am zis
si am plecat... dar inca
se zbateau in mine cuvinte fara numar
cuvinte subtiri ca acele de mare
cuvinte sarate ca spuma
cuvinte care-ar fi vrut sa inoate libere,
spre larg...
Iar tu mangaiai valurile,
in somnul tau, in visul tau...



Ce mare fara margini e intre mainile noastre.
Ce hau in vazduhul dintre mine si tine...
Si-o-ntristare se lasa pe umarul meu
ca un soim de vanatoare.
O, daca aripile nu mi-ar fi de ceara,
daca trupul meu n-ar fi greoi si aspru
ca lutul...
daca am fi curati ca pestii in marea cea sferica
si daca fiecare secunda n-ar fi mereu a trecutului...



Ce cauti? Cand privesti in mine
sfasiindu-mi carnea pana la os,
sfasiindu-mi oasele pana la suflet,
cand patrunzi in hatisurile intunecate
bantuite de fiare salbatice
si-nsetate de sange,
ce cauti?
In inima mea doarme
o lupoaica turbata!
Paseste usor, sa nu o trezesti...
Calca pe apele raurilor si nu te opri,
sa nu-ti adulmece urma...
Si dac-ar fi, luptatorule, sa gasesti
cararea firava care te cheama-
-atunci, te rog, ramai...
Ramai...




There are seas of wonders, salted seas
that lay between my heart and yours.
Oh, the dark waters, boiling waters
of magic and enchantement...
You, traveller, don't wander
across the misty waters.
You won't get closer, but
deeper instead.
I myself tried many times
to sail the sea of magic. Your fingertips
did never caress my wandering heart...
Travelled I more into the darkness...

miercuri, 23 iulie 2008

Chapter I - Friends...


-Shssst! Lemalian whispered to his friend. You’re gonna get us killed! But Roun continued his low voiced mutter like he didn’t hear at all his friend’s gurgle. Lemalian was accustomed with this kind of behavior as Roun was totally inaccessible while casting his spells. He was entering some kind of trance, ignoring everything around and softly spelling the complicated words of magic.
But this time Lemalian insisted. The two orcs were already under the tree they were hiding into, they were furious to have discovered their mischief and willing to find and punish the guilty ones. And orcs were not famous for their kindness at all…
-Roun! Whispered Lemalian again… but it was already too late. One of the orcs raised his eyes and saw the two elf kids hidden in the foliage of the old oak tree. Lemalian had enough time to see the sharp blade of the orc k’thor turning towards them, when a glittering light exploded somewhere near him. He heard the terrible cries of the orcs and the voice of his companion: -Jump, my friend!
The two elf kids jumped off the oak tree and started to run, trying to get as far as they could from the orc camp. Another orc was already right behind them and they could feel the ground vibrations from his heavy steps. They knew the orc would probably kill them with one hit if he could only lay his hand on them. They were running for their lives. In front of them there was a crossroad. The tiny road to the left led to the forest and that seemed to be their best chance to stay alive. The other one led to a huge waterfall boarded by sharp, hidden rocks. Dark mists were rising from the boiling waters and it was said that there were evil spirits haunting the place.
-Take it to the right, Roun! Shouted Lemalian. We have to split up.
-But it’s a dead end!
-Just do it! And for once in your lifetime, just listen to somebody else but yourself. .. The right one!
It was no time for fighting…Roun knew that the waterfall meant sure death but there was some kind of determination in Lemalian’s voice that made his friend go with his plan. Lemalian turned to the left and disappeared in the shadows of the forest while Roun took the road to the waterfall. The orc hesitated for a moment then followed Roun who seemed now to be an easy catch.
They were getting closer and closer to the edge of the cliff beyond which furious water were melting shadow and dust. Roun couldn’t get any further without falling into the depth. He turned around and saw the hideous face of the orc, contorting into a smile of satisfaction. He came slowly, an axe in his right hand, enjoying the horror in the kid’s eyes and starving for the smell of elven blood.
Roun threw a glance at the dark waters.
-By abyss, he whispered, pondering in his mind whether he’d rather die by the orc’s axe or scrambled in the terrifying grinder behind.
But suddenly, with a great cry, the orc turned around. Roun noticed the Elven arrow thrusted in his back; with a sharp whisper, once again in the orc’s neck. And then another in his left shoulder. The beast was bleeding and spitting some kind of bloddy foam, but he didn’t fall. Full of hatred, the orc started to look for his mysterious aggressor.


-Lem…whispered Roun, smiling to himself, he used the orc’s distraction to shelter in the cranny of the stonewall to his left and searched his mind for the right words of magic. He knew a low level petrifying spell, but he only used it for birds in their hunting expeditions. Yet it was the only combat spell he knew how to perform, so he started the soft incantation. Right before going into the trance, he heard as in a dream, Lem’s cry and knew the orc found him and hit him. How bad it was, he didn’t know, nor if his spell was going to work or not. He finished casting it and followed in his mind the blue shade of light hitting the orc. He opened his eyes and saw the huge body of the orc fall into the ground, very much alike the great stones rising from the mists of the waterfall. But he was looking for something else. He was trying to find another body, smaller and thinner, he was looking for his friend.
-Lem, Lem!!!
But there was no other answer than the cold echo climbing the cliffs. Then a soft cry came and hope flourished in Roun’s heart. His friend was alive!
-Are you allright, my friend?
-Well, I had better moments…the orc…is he dead?
-I don’t think so, but you hit him badly, he’ll bleed to death, I’m sure. Can you walk?
-I guess I tried to avoid his ax and he hit me with the iron glove. I lost consciousness. I thought I died. You saved my life!
-And you saved mine! We’re even now. Let’s go. I never used this spell on such big creatures. Let’s get out of here!
The two kids disappeared into the mists. Lem was resting on Roun’s shoulder. His whole body ached, but he fell brave and heroic and he was happy. Roun didn’t share much of his spirits. He knew his first spell uncovered their hiding place in the oak tree. He put their lives in danger for his desire to test the new spell and they almost died both. But on the other hand, the orcs might have discovered them as well without the help of his noisy incantation. And then they would have stood no chance at all. In the end, everything turned allright. Yet something was keeping him from sharing Lem’s exhuberance. The magic sang in his veins a song of power, a song of war and domination. It was a new feeling for Roun-the delicate and seductive dance of well-done magic. A feeling that asked for meditation and analyse, as his master would have said. Yet Lem’s smile and joyful attitude were so catchy, Roun let it go and joined his friend in the sweet caress of victory. They faced an orc and they won! They weren’t ordinary elf-kids anymore. They were heroes!

-what are you thinking of? Astara asked in her soft, velvet voice. She had a way of asking this question that seemed to oblige to an answer. Roun always felt uncomfortable and a little tensed when she was doing this, because he felt like he should have a smart and profound answer to her, and somehow, it never came.
-Just dreaming away..
-Roun, the dreamer! When did you grow soft?
-Since I changed my heart of stone with one of steel, young lady! The merchant said it’s faster, it weights less and it’s gonna work better. But it turned it also has some side-effects, as you can see.
-Ha!Ha! So you also grew funny! Tell me, what were you thinking at?
-I was thiking of the old times when we were kids, me and Lem.
-You’re still kids! But you love playing adults, both of you.
-Well, young lady, there’s a sharp tongue you’ve got there! I believe it’s the bad influence of the katara lessons. But you too…you love playing, don’t you? You just love pretending you’re a boy.
-I’m more of a man than many of your wizard friends, Roun, and you know it! I prefer to hold a sword rather than spend my days learning by heart that bird language of yours.
-Hey! Don’t insult the magic! It’s gonna get angry and maybe turn you into a frog.
-You wish!
-Actually, I wouldn’t…You couldn’t practice your katara anymore and I wouldn’t have so much fun.
-You’re turning evil, you know that? I miss Lem…he was cute and you laughed a lot together. Now you only make mean jokes like these. He was taking me seriously.
-He was well educated and polite.
-You!!! And she hit gently his shoulder with a scheme of katara punch but with no intention to hurt.
-Yes, Astara, I miss him, as well, and soon I’ll have to leave, too.
-But you’ll both be back by the end of the year, won’t you?
-Yes, but, still…it’s hard for me o leave Qualinesti and live among humans. I heard they are much alike orcs, only they don’t have their phisycal power, but they are rude and dirty, they enjoy violence and they have little respect for others.
-So, why are you leaving, after all?
-They have the best masters of magic.
-Better than Tartas?
-Yes, even better than Tartas!

Experience Ceahlau!

Am multe cuvinte despre munte, prieteni, ras, spice aurii si stele, care acolo au parut a fi mult mai numeroase decat de la mine din balcon... si despre descoperiri, despre tinerete si libertate... Dar, pentru ca nu sunt emo enough sa imi intretin cu simt de raspundere blogul, am sa las doar imaginile sa vorbeasca. Enjoy! Am fragmentat filmuletul in doua pt ca era prea mare sa-l uploadez in intregime... asa ca avem Day 1 si Day 2...

marți, 22 iulie 2008

At the Beginning...


The world as we know it was not always the same... There was a time, at the beginnings, when the three old races lived in separate lands, holding hostile relationships and fighting the wars of hatred and intolerance. Orcs were a powerful and violent race, their lust for blood being equalled only by humans' lust for power. Us, Elves, we never got along with the others because of their wickedness and disrespect for life. Since the beginning of time, we were thought to see the sacred hand of Demius in everything that lives, to respect and protect the fragility of life since this is our mightiness in front of the tenebrous tentacles of Chaos. But the others, creatures of Norbus and Rubshi, hold in their blood the poisonous sting of evil.
At the beginning was the Life... and the Life exploded from the Chaos and fought to exist... Life curdled into being and became aware of it. And life named itself Demius, the first one and the one who is. Demius looked into the chaos and felt its cold nothingness. Rubshi, he named it, and the evil goddess of desolation appeared from the depth of the abyss. Her heart was cold as ice and her mind vicious, as she was the essence of the chaos: the terrible hatred for life. From the first moment she tried to spread her evilness into all beings. When Demius named the ground and the sky, and they came into being, Rubshi named the darkness, and darkness invaded the new born world and started to devour it as a hungry wolf. But Demius threw arrows against the darkness and pierced its coat in millions of places. Then he named the light, and put it above the darkness. Through the holes let by Demius' arrows the light shone joyfully in the world. But light was still shy and fragile. So he took a piece of his own heart of fire and threw it on the sky to travel around the world. He called it sun and the time of the sun he called it day. And seeing it all, Demius spoke the name of the third god - Norbus, the equilibrium. All three of them created races: Demius created us, the Elves. We are the mirrors that reflect his essence of goodness and majesty. We are the oldest race of the world and we have solar hearts, as our creator. Norbus created the Humans, a slippery race, with short and desperate lives, waggled by devastating passions. Norbus created them from contrasts that contradict and equilibrate each other, as a demonstration of his eternal neutrality. They would have been a fascinating race if it wasn't for their restlessness and need of change. Rubshi created the Orcs. Her powers grew weaker when she gave birth to them, since it was not in her nature to create. But she had no other choice but to subdue, as she could not stand to see the world not carrying her evil shadow. Orcs are heartless and violent; they starve for the pleasure of destruction and death... They kill for pleasure... even their own kind... They have great physical power but they are disorganized and selfish, being difficult to be lead in battles. Orcs lived in Gundharosh and extended to the western islands. Humans populated the Middle Lands, the plains of Rurpia and the mountains. From all the races, they seem the most adaptable to any land type and various conditions.
And us, we settled in our homeland in Neemahnesti, the most beautiful of all lands, the sacred ground where Demius pointed his holy finger. We grew and we raised glorious civilisations, we extended in Qualinesti, sweet land of lakes and waterfalls and even to the shore of the Emerald Sea. The misty Silvanesti, land of wonders and deep woods became the home of the Forest Elves. And in all places, since the age of fire, our supple and elegant palaces, our prodigious gardens, our serene eyes glorified the beauty of life.

Then other races, young races appeared... dwarves, kenders and minotaurs were imperfect attempts of the minor gods, although they don't like to admit it. Goblins and gnomes came as an experiment of Rubshi. But if goblins do indeed incarnate the wickedness of their creator, gnomes turned out to have a good essence, despite their unhealthy curiosity and dangerous taste for innovation, which drove Rubshi totally mad. She would have destroyed them immediately if Demius and Norbus hadn't intervened and taken them under their protection.
Those races populated the resting territories in the East, the desert and the Highwoods. They build their cities and laboured to gain their living, they fought wars and greeted times of peace; they played their songs and raised their art to the gods.

And after all creation was done, magic appeared in the world. Magic came from the heart of the land, as a mysterious spirit of all things, slippery and changing and alive... It connected the heart of man with the heart of being and with the heart of the abyss, allowing he who could master it to bend the rules of the universe. Even gods feared the deep mysteries of magic and tried to control it or destroy it. Yet, magic came only to man.

And time has passed... After the age of fire came the age of shadow – a doomed time of war and destruction. But it passed away, and it was followed by the age of light. And it is now that our story begins, with a young elf, day dreaming under an old cedar.

luni, 21 iulie 2008

To my dear friend, Lemalian, from the Misty Woods of Saligredan


I find, my friend, deep into my soul, the seeds fear and discontent. The magic they are teaching here is both amazingly powerful and vicious. Humans have an evil daemon that leads their ambitions and desires. Most of them are obsessed with power. And when they reach it they use it to get more... That makes them so good in magic, especially the Dark robes, those who raise their eyes to Nuitari, the dark moon of mystery. I'm practicing spells here that I never dreamt to even set my eyes on in Qualinesti. I'm getting better and better, but sometimes I feel the magic flowing like a poison through my blood, trying to take over me, to drown my spirit in its waves of power, like it does with humans. The best of them are totally committed to magic; it took over their will, their lives; they became one with it... It's strange, and frightening, and glorious, and a little sad... Elves could never reach this level of passion, nor could they sacrifice that much for the lust for power... But, on the other hand, I have never seen such mightiness of magic, not even in Tartas, most skilled of Elven masters... Well, of course, he is a little bit disputed in Qualinesti, but you know that I have great consideration for him even after (or especially after) those controversial events.
Living among humans changed my perspective. Us, Elves, are too stiff... we don't improve, we guard... we don't change, we preserve... we don't adapt, since we believe we are perfect... and in a way we are close to perfection, blessed be Great Demius, our Creator. But these humans, with their tiny lives, seem to compensate their lack of time with their ambition... they grow in power and they are sick with power... and there's some kind of intensity in their passion that pushes them forward and leads them to incredible doings. I somehow despise them, and somehow admire them... and I know you'll get worried about me since I speak of such confusing emotions. I know how strange this paradox must seem to you ...
Soon I will take a trip to Middle Lands, to Korkoto, with some business and I hope to meet you on my way back. Let me know if you could come somewhere near... I feel that I could use a good hug and some Elven wine drank with an old friend. I also heard some bad rumours that I hope you will refute.

Maranatha, dear friend, and may the good fortune guard your steps.

Roun.


Thosz Rounrianthas of Parthanasti,
White Robe Apprentice