Being a compendium of
the collected works of
the great sages.
Dedication: This is for my mother.
Foreword: I, myself, do not pretend to be a sage of any quality. Nor do I suppose myself to be a student of the histories. Why then create such a work? There is, in my opinion, far too much laxity with the truth. Bards sing the songs and sauce them up for a night of tavern tales, hoping to garner a few extra coins. Some of those songs become loved by the populace, and soon the original story is all boobs and bums. Poets condense diplomatic solutions that prevented outright war into a few stanzas about bars and bums. Where then to find the truth behind these stories? There is no origin, it seems. The earliest you can find, with any authority, are the recounts of sages. “Copy everything, alter nothing”, the sages' motto. If only that itself were true.
I present here the earliest versions of some of the important histories. When I went to look, to find what I could, the earliest, most concise and cohesive were the sages. Their dedication to maintaining a chain of unaltered documents over time would lead one to think even current sages, therefore, would tell the stories the same as any other. Indeed, many unscrupulous priests and politicians have used that very reliance on texts that have altered over time to sway opinions their way. I say 'these' are the earliest, not 'this' is the earliest, because it is sometimes impossible to truly know. One sage may quote sources unknown to other sages. Some sages quote only other sages. I have included here brief notes to demonstrate differences between texts when there is sufficient reason to think the difference makes a difference, so to speak.
How do the stories change over time? Many ways I have discovered; I only note a few here. Perhaps a sage is copying an old text which has had visitations from bookworms. The sage reads, “The King was at this castle, went down this flight of stairs, turned,” and there is a wormhole where the next word was. What does he write? Nothing? Then, eventually, all the information will be lost. “Pale”? Does the sage dare make an editorial comment? Left? Right? Those are pretty safe. Let's choose “right”. Except that castle, that staircase, only turns left. You can visit it and see where the King was killed. The King could only turn left, was stabbed and died. Now is it all that important to the point of the story, “the King was killed?” Does it really matter whether the sage in question got turning right or left correct?
There are also the, “Copy Everything, Alter Nothing - unless coin is involved, then as you please” sages. Sad to say, but these seem to be near half the population of sages. And the story becomes copied and repeated and sung and stanza-ed and ends at last as common knowledge. To weed out those sages for coin I have spent considerable time referencing and cross-referencing many sources. Too numerous to mention, I thank them all for their works and their assistance in aiding mine.
These then are the stories:
Of the Necessity and Prevalence of '3': A listing
Three men in a boat: A silversmith, A tailor and a soldier sail in hopes of discovering the origins of the world.
- The Sine Wave
Matrice and Ilan: The story of the founder of Creops and her son after.
The Father and Son: El Sala
Cordaith Dae Wandreth: On Elves and Dwarves and Men – a history of the elves before they died out and their views of dwarves and men.
Dwarves
Men
On Meres
Flora and Fauna of a less common nature.
Lais and Manto – Rhine and Lace.
Of the foundations of Power.
Daemons: Festa's Forces
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The Tragedy of D'Nee
-
Siena and Jian: echos
Rules of Tryst: card game
How to Read Elven
Part 1
“Cordaith Dae Wandreth” literally translates to “The Elf Cordaith.” The world knows who this is without the last name.
However, a truer translation would be “The Elf Cordaith called the Elf; the Learned”. The Dae here means “the name of the Elf follows”
A true literal translation of the whole name could be “Cordaeth The Elf Learned” which is silly.
It is because the Dae should be applied weakly (as in “yes, yes he was an elf, but never mind that now”) to the Cordaith who was Cordaith before he was called The Elf Learned. 'Dae' applied hard here because though he was Cordaith, the important thing is now he is called the “Learned Elf.”
The 'eth' is an amplifying suffix. Drop the “e” if preceded by a vowel or exchange for “aith” as an extra amplifier.
Here Cord Dae is the diminutive, Cordeth Dae is the proper, and Cordaith Dae is the superlative form.
Cordaith Dae Wandreth would translate to “The Elf Cordaeth, who is learning” or “unlearned” depending on context. Elves would consider the process of “learning” to mean that one is necessarily “unlearned.”
So if we just referred to Cordaith, we should say Cordaith Dae, but we could also call him Dae Wandreth. Just more honorific to say Cordaith Dae Wandreth. But you would not say Dae Cordaith Dae Wandreth.
And that's an easy one.
The Sine Wave
My name is Mikel. I am, what has come to be called, an immortal. I come from the time before. We six immortals are all that remains of what was, before what is, began.
What there was is not a thing of which we can easily speak. Concepts that were are no longer and even those that carry across do not carry the same meanings.
An example. You have stars and a sun and a moon. I knew none of such things till first I saw them here.
What was there before? There were one hundred and five of us. Beings, vast and ancient. That's all I know of. I know nothing of sand or sun in my time before. I know I had a wife and a daughter.
The one hundred and five knew of each other. Though there was no light, no sound, no feel, still we knew and experienced each other. I think we were all of the same sort of being, but I have nothing to compare against.
I fancied myself a researcher. Though I now wonder what I had to research. In those studies, I discovered a thing most concerning. Our universe was at its end. All things end, to make way for the new. So it was with our universe. It was collapsing, pulled inward by its own mass, it would crush us all. My calculations showed it would then expand again.
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An eternal sine wave of universal collapse and expansion.
You must understand. Though we were a small group, we were very solitary. It never occurred to us that we had vast distances between us. It's just what the universe was. Each of us had a separate sphere of interest.
Try as I might, I could not convince my wife, nor my daughter, of my findings. I do not think they had the ability to understand. My wife told me to speak to Venerada of the Sisters. Venerada and I were always most like each other in mind. I spoke to Venerada, she saw immediately the issue. The Sisters always act together and so I now had another voice to support me.
Venerada and I called a meeting. We convinced almost no one. Vemix, the ancient was the only other to join us.
When I say we are old, you do not have the capacity to comprehend. I am very old. I do not know how old. I can only judge against the age of Vemix.
I remember no suns. No stars, planets, people. I do not recall being young. I do not recall my wedding, nor the birth of my daughter. None of the one hundred five, save Vemix, remember any of this.
Vemix is old enough to remember stars and planets and empires and galactic wars. Vemix recalls the birth of the rest of us but does not know his own origins. If I am a researcher, Vemix is a survivor.
Vemix loves his own life above all else. It was he who came up with a plan to save us all. Though we could not stop the collapse of our universe, we might be able to guide what comes out the other side.
Vemix proposed we create a bubble of our universe. We would be inside and support it from collapsing. We could then direct what this new universe might be like.
In the end, only six of us worked to guide the collapse: Vemix, the ancient. He brought a depth of experience and an unparalleled survival instinct. Froe, who is vigour incarnate. It is Froe who fashioned the bubble around us. Included with the males was, of course, myself. The men then were mind, spirit and body.
The Sisters are: Venerada the cunning, Visegarda, the priestess, and Vigilantia who is strength incarnate. So it was that the pattern repeated.
Came the collapse. I cannot explain the hours or excruciating pain and suffering we all experienced at that time. The incessant roar in our ears, the blinding light, smells of burning flesh.
There were one hundred and five of us. Six went into the bubble in an attempt to prevent the collapse or guide the new universe. We had not considered one thing. Ninety-nine of our friends and families were all that was left in our old universe.
In the collapse, the ninety-nine were shoved against the bubble. I chose not to explain further.
Out the other side, there was silence and blackness. Stillness. Nothingness.
We had bodies now. Not like before. We were a thing before, we had cohesion, not “bodies”. Bodies can be damaged.
We did not emerge unscathed. Froe had made the bubble with his abilities and so he was most in contact with the collapse. Vigilantia held up the bubble with her ability having only slightly less contact.
Froe lost his mind from the contact and exists now as a monstrous wandering hulk, raging mindlessly against this new universe. He maintains still a small bubble of the old universe around him. Vemix is the only one of the immortals who can control Froe at all. It was Vemix who recruited Froe to join our group.
Vigilantia lost her body. Her mind still survives. Always the Sisters act and appear together. Now, when they are encountered, if Vigilantia is required, it will be her mind in one of her sisters bodies.
We had perhaps three breaths to ourselves before this new universe asserted itself.
Three beings appeared. Toran, Festa and The Un-Named One.
Toran and Festa began to hurl vast bolts of pure essence at each other in an attempt to destroy one another. The Un-Named One turned inside out and disappeared.
We immortals must have been far too insignificant to be considered. We could have been destroyed with a whisper by one of these beings.
It would be sometime before Venerada and I could work out what these beings were. Each held a third the energy of what was before. Even considering they each held a third of our former friends and families, these beings were hundreds, possibly thousands of times more powerful than any of we immortals.
It was soon apparent that these two, Festa and Toran, represented vastly opposing viewpoints. Toran is creation while Festa is destruction. Polar opposites. They hate each other to the point where neither will be happy till the other is destroyed.
Toran took one third of his power and fashioned a weapon. A great gold and black sword he named Neith.
Neith's power was staggering; blows landed that would slice mountains in half. Festa just laughed and wrapped his hand around Neith in an attempt to shatter her. Neith creaked and moaned in pain but did not shatter.
Toran pulled Neith back, slicing Festa's hand open. Blue ichor dripped, forming pools at Festa's feet.
Festa threw his fist at Toran, knocking a tooth from the god's head.
On and on they fought, neither making any progress, only small violent victories.
We are all of us limited by who and what we are. Toran for all his vast powers, still, cannot not be creation. Though the sword, Neith, seemed to have little effect, the mindset of Toran was to create more beings.
Whether they were to act as distractions or an actually army, would be a question only Toran can answer. He hasn't chosen to.
Being loath to use more of his own power, Toran used the power he had placed in Neith. He took Neith and broke off her tip. With this piece Toran made Rebiel, first of the Reverences. Rebiel could use Toran's power and began to assault Festa.
This battle raged on and on. How long I cannot say. Time, proper time, had not yet begun. There was only seeming time. It seemed a very long time.
Rebiel's attacks became less and less forceful. Rebiel had no stomach for unending war. Eventually, Rebiel ceased altogether.
Now Festa began to make headway in the war. Toran lost an eye, to go with the tooth.
Toran came up with a plan. He would create more Reverences to become a fighting force. He would pair them up to enhance their abilities.
Once more Toran went to Neith and shattered her. Toran created Daeth, Reverence of Skies and Waters, to be partnered with Whenam, Reverence of Health, Hearth, and Home. He created Euphemia, Reverence of Passion, Love, and Sexuality, to be partnered with Marin, Reverence of Crafts, Making, and Progress.
Then he made Rebiel to love Neith and Neith to love Rebiel.
But Toran was blinded in one eye and did not see that Rebiel and Neith had no interest in each other. Rebiel had no interest in violence and Neith was a weapon. Neith was set to do, to the very detail, whatever Toran so wished. She did not understand or respect Rebiel. She thought him a coward.
A last time, Toran went to Neith and shattered her into many thousands of pieces, larger and smaller. Left only was the basket hand guard and hilt.
With the larger pieces Toran made the planes of existence. With the smaller pieces, he made the Heralds of the Reverences. With the tiny shards left, Toran made the Elves.
Now Toran and Festa were again close matched, but without Rebiel, Toran knew he would eventually lose.
Once more, Toran went to Neith and broke the pommel off Neith's hilt. With this he made Bebba. Bebba was created solely for two purposes. First, she was to be the love, the mate, for Rebiel.
At his first sight of Bebba, Rebiel was smitten. They were created to be love. The perfect example of love that Euphemia could point to and say – “there – do that.”
Bebba's second purpose? She was a sacrificial gift, a peace offering, a truce, between Festa and Toran. Bebba would be given to satisfy Festa's lust for destruction in exchange for peace.
Toran knew Rebiel would never allow this sacrifice to occur and so would have to rejoin the fight.
This act of Toran's, this intentional destruction, this treachery, has reverberated throughout the cosmos. Treachery of a loved one repeats over and over as so many things do in this universe.
It is the cause for “intent” to be baked into the use of Toran's Power. It is the “horrifying act” that Neith quotes for her rebellion against Toran. It is the basis for the binding of Festa and, ultimately; the existence of Festa's Three Trees.
At the moment of their own beginning, Festa and Toran chose roles for themselves. They imposed rules to define those roles. Festa cannot create, Toran cannot destroy. Understand, this is not meant in the mundane sense. Of course Toran can dig clay to make bricks, or cut trees to make boats. Of course Festa can make debris destroying those boats. It is at the level of “this thing is only meant to be created/destroyed,” that they must obey the rules.
Toran's intentional making of Bebba solely to give her to be destroyed, broke established rules and allowed Festa to make one thing – the infamous Three Trees. Festa's legacy now he is removed from the world.
For in anger, Rebiel summoned resources unknown and bound Festa in a mighty chain of 50,000 links. Each year, one link breaks away, bringing Festa closer to release.
Now Toran created the World, where the living are sorted and Mondro, the After-World, where the armies are stored. Toran took the removed eye and placed it above the World, to shine down and keep an eye on the world. Toran took the missing tooth and made the Moon, that we might remember Toran's suffering at night, too.
With Festa restrained, the world lives on. Then, at the end of those 50,000, Festa and Toran will battle once more. A final battle. To be decided by which forces prevail, those of Toran, or those who have been corrupted by the trees.
What of we six, the immortals? Each to their own. In Toran, I, Mikel, saw traces of my wife and daughter. A sense, a motion, something. So it is I act as Herald to Toran and speak here for him.
The Sisters always act as one, and, with nothing else to cling to, Venerada sides with me, so the Sisters serve Toran as well.
Froe wanders, lashing out senselessly at anything and nothing, unless Vemix summon him to serve.
Vemix was most devastated by our failure to rebuild our universe. He desires home most desperately. So it is he assists the machinations of Festa where he can. Vemix knows that should Festa eventually win the final battle – this universe will also end. Vemix seeks to try again. To ride the sine wave.
How to read Elven
Part 2
Elven is a poetic language. It uses words to convey concepts, not specific meaning. In Elven you might say Fel dae cho – “That house cat is pretty.” The literal translation is something like “Bright like the sun, the tiny tiger.”
Here dae means “of the brightness” and is commonly used to refer to a sun-like quality. Fel means any cat creature, but by default it means tiger. Cho is used here to modify the kind of cat. Cho – from which we derive “chores,” duties to do at home; a house cat.
So here we have a sunny cat at home.
The context suggests we refer to a specific cat, so we could translate - “that house cat is sunny”, which is an odd thing to say. So we translate dae here as sunny, or pretty, resulting in, “that house cat is pretty.”
Fel dro cho would translate to – 'that is a black house cat', but it could also mean there is a panther loose in the house. Context is important.
We end with: when reading Elven, remember to think of not just what adjectives are used but how. How much of the exact definition of a word is being used and how much is a poetic sphere of close meanings.