A Brief History of Elvenkind

The Glorious Elvenkind dates back to countless ages ago, when the stars shone new and the grip of the land upon the hearts of beings was strong. Legend tells us that we were born of Qaúlathënas, Mother of Queentrees, when She bore fruits that fell on the ground and germinated our kin. Physical proof of our Sacred Ancestry lies in the many leaves that entangle our hair and in the sap-like colors of our eyes.

When Elvenkind was born, we spread on the land and founded a many civilizations upon Terra. We were innumerable and proud, sending emissaries to the Mother of Queentrees every solstice to celebrate our anniversary and to worship Her Holiness.

However, it was in one of such moments that a grievous tragedy befell our kin, tainting our blood with neverending waves of pain and guilt. As it happened, the Firstborns of Qaúlathënas, elves of dream-like powers, sought to distinguish themselves from each other in the praising of the Mother of Queentrees. They grew restless and envious, for each of them wanted to praise more and to worship best. Soon, hearts inflamed and war was raged right before the Seeder of all Elvenkind. She felt indescribable sorrow.

That is the story of the Withering of the Mothertree, and I shall not speak of it further. It hurts my feelings and numbs my senses. Yet, it is hence that Qaúlathënas imprisoned herself and poisoned all around her with deadly spores, thick with death and burning with decay. Many were trapped within the demise of the Mothertree and thus they also perished, with only a few escaping to safer woods.

Few of the Firstborn survived, but with them they kept the seeds of the Queentrees, Firstborn before the Firstborn, much alike their Mother in likeness and in spirit. With them the survivors entered their newfound lands and cared and nursed the little, golden spirals of hope. After centuries the Queentrees grew tall and strong, resembling the Mothertree such that often would they charge Firstborn with bitter tears for their seeing of them.

It was then that the Feylands were forged, Elvenkind territories scattered all above Terra, home to the Firstborn and ruled by a Queenstree. The Firstborn were Gods to the Elvenkind and the Queenstree was the God of all Gods, and thus they thrived and prospered with their lesser siblings.

Nevertheless, the fog of corruption and conflict spreaded and infested, both within the lands and hearts of the Elvenkind. Their presence grew weaker and more discontinuous, until only a few Feylands were left.  Now, there is all but one. The eponymous Feyland is the last standing reign of Elvenkind, blessed them be by the Mothertree.

Now, the Feyland is all but a shadow on the final note of a long requiem in Elvenkind History. All but one of the Firstborns is left, and it is under the undying tenacity of the Bright Eyed Qallantë that we must cast our prayers in the hopes that we will prevail over the Long Demise.

Blessed be Qallantë, high in Her Seat, and may the Mothertree have in Her Embrace the ghosts of all Queentrees, Firstborns and Elvenkind alike.