The Eldest

      The old man sat hunched in a rickety-looking chair, almost as ancient as he was. Stroking his long white beard, he pondered life, as he so often does, while his crimson eyes bored into the crackling flames. He had wrinkly dark gray skin, pointed ears, and incredibly long curved horns. He could sense the presence of the young woman who entered his hut before she properly made herself known, and held up a hand in her direction, silencing her introduction before he turned to face her. She too was a dark elf, and like him also possessed red eyes and horns, though as she was young hers were much smaller, and had a slight curl going upwards. “What is it you desire my child?” a wizened voice emerged from the old man as he bade his guest sit in the chair next to him. The statement wasn’t too far off either, although this woman would actually be a far-off descendant of his, hundreds of generations down the line. “Old Father,” she began, “I was wondering if you had any old stories to impart on us? You hardly ever seem to speak of the past, but we’d all love to hear whatever ancient wisdom you may impart?” The old man turned his gaze to the fire for a moment once again, before stating, “What about the current wisdom I impart? Or even my history books, those should be more than enough.” He had turned fully towards the fire once again, his brow furrowed as he resumed stroking his beard. “Of course the wisdom you offer us now is wonderful, but the books…” He turned his gaze towards her “well, you’ve written them as if it was from the perspective of someone who wasn’t there, what’s the term for it?” He responded immediately, “ghostwriting, I published them beneath a false name so that the world would actually study them, no one would heed the word of one of us my dear.” She tilted her head quizzically, “why?” The man simply pointed to the great horns upon his head. “To contain evil we take part of it in ourselves, and that’s the only part the world sees. They don’t see our sacrifice, our strength, our will. They only see red eyes and horns.” The young woman pondered his words, as she began slowly feeling the length of her horns, before asking, “but still, your books contain only the events of the last three ages, they do not detail any of your firsthand experiences! They are written as a wood elf who’s likely no older than me, but you are Daeboros Prinatus! The first dark elf created by the Gods, eldest being in Agora! You have memories and experiences from the last nine hundred years, almost from the dawn of creation!” Daeboros stopped stroking his beard, simply placing his hands on the arm rests of his chair, which is surely held together only by magic at this point, possibly even soul bound to Daeboros himself. “I predate the creation of madness, I may be old but I haven’t forgotten who I am, young one.” She leaned in, gazing almost pleadingly into his eyes, “if you won’t tell us your stories of ancient times, could you at least tell me why?” The old man winced and froze for a long moment, before responding, dejectedly, “the high elves.” She cocked her head to one side again, “what about them?” Daeboros turned to face her, “you have at least read the books have you not? They may be gone and extinct now, but everyone, even the ra-rho in their tunnels, know what those wretched beings have done.” He spat out the last words venomously, cursing the very existence of the high elves as she sheepishly replied, “o-of course I know, Old Father, they enslaved many of the free peoples of Agora during the first age. But our people managed to escape their rule, right?” Daeboros scoffed, “While it’s true that no dark elf had been enslaved, we did not escape their rule. No one did, not even the ra-rho in their caves, the few unfortunate souls of those poor rat-folk who ventured to the surface soon found themselves in irons.” She looked down at the crackling flames as well, “if none of our people were ever enslaved, how else were we drawn into their rule?” A loud pop from the fire echoed in the silence that followed, before Daeboros sighed, “we had the might to withstand them at first, but not for long. Some camps could thrive on their own, but if you were in a smaller group or alone, you had no choice but to join them.” Daeboros then opened his palms, gazing into his withered hands, “I was spared the fate many of my children had to endure, but I felt their pain, and the pain of those they kept in line, the cracking of the whip.” The young woman looked up at him, concerned as he continued, “I am tied to the strands of fate, chosen by Tanat as his first and strongest seer. Death-speaker, they called me, for I was the mouth of death and fate itself, the Phoenix King forced me to scry numerous prophecies for him. He even forced me to hunt down one of the mighty phoenixes, the female mate of the noble pair, and enchain her for him, as a pet.” Daeboros sighed as he clenched his fists once more, closing his eyes as tears began to stream down his face. The young woman gazed into the fire, imagining the beast. “I had only heard legends of the phoenix; I had no idea they truly existed at one point.” Daeboros turned to her, “There would likely be many more in this world, were it not for me. The male still wanders the globe, searching for his mate. I’ve heard tell that he occasionally stops by some towns to witness their Twins’ Solstice celebrations, relishing the ceremonial burning of the Phoenix King, as the people revel in their harvest. I have no idea if the female is even still alive or not, I wouldn’t put it past the high elves to devise a way to end their lifecycle.” They sat in silence for a long time, gazing into the fire, Daeboros occasionally adding some additional kindling and logs with a flick of his wrist. “Old Father…” She broke the silence finally, causing Daeboros to turn to her, “what about the prophecy? And the twins? How did you help them if you were employed by the high elves?” Daeboros chuckled, “well, they found me first actually. I’m glad it was Fortuna who entered the room first, as her wisdom stilled her brothers blade. Umbra likely would have struck me down on the spot if not for her, how hungry he was for elven blood. It was a rare opportunity that I was not in the presence of the King, and they took me with them to their camp. Finally I was in the presence a resistance, finally I saw a glimmer of hope, and I pledged myself to them.” The entire time Daeboros had no smile on his face, but only now while reminiscing on these ancient heroes, these old friends did he finally have a faint grin growing. “I examined their blades, fine high elven swords they managed to steal from an armory, along with matching armor. Fortuna, clad in a gold-alloy armor, surprisingly light and incredibly strong, wielding a golden blade that had an onyx pommel, representing her twin, Umbra. He was clad in a great set of blackened armor, leaving little room for maneuvering, but wearing it he could charge into a crowd of enemies, surrounded on all sides, and fear no injury. Similarly his blade was of a black steel, with a golden crescent as the pommel. The set seemed made for them, and in reading their gear, and their spirits, found them intwined. The twins had an unbreakable bond with both themselves and their blades, so I offered to impart their might unto their blades, enchanting the steel with the energies of their spirits, and the twins became nigh unstoppable.” He paused, turning to face the young woman, “but the rest from there is history recorded, as you know. The high elves are no more, but even after seven hundred years, their scars are still felt by many.” The young woman rose from her chair and bowed to Daeboros, “thank you for the story Old Father, I… I can imagine it was not easy to recall. I have one final question if you’ll indulge me?” Daeboros tilted his head now, “when did you have the vision? The Golden Cube and the shifting figure?” Daeboros narrowed his eyes slightly, “the end of days? Why do you want to know?” She shifted slightly, looking about as if ensuring no one was listening, “there’s some rumors…” Daeboros rose from his chair with surprising swiftness “rumors?” She stood sheepishly as she continued, “a young fa-rho, a fox-man from the Dunes. He travels with a small band a short way north of here… he holds a golden cube.” A flurry of emotions ran across Daeboros’ face at this news, and he fumbled for his walking stick, “where is Ginya? Find my wife! Prepare the scarlet room and bring out the crimson blind, I must see this individual immediately.” The young woman scurried off to find his wife, and prepare the Seeing Hut for a vision.