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Eldarim fluff

 
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chrisbogert
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 01, 2013 6:33 am GMT    Post subject: Eldarim fluff Reply with quote

Hi all,
I was wondering if there is any official fluff on the Eldarim, like history or where they live, culture and stuff like that?
I've been working on a write up of all the different races. I found a nice pdf on this forum someplace by the guy that wrote up all stuff about the Dragon Dice™ world. Whatever is not in that I made up.
I made a map based on the one I also found on here and fleshed it out quite a bit. It is over on BGG. I think it has a few mistakes, I'll try to fix them someday.
Thanks for any info
Chris
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chuckpint
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 01, 2013 7:53 am GMT    Post subject: Reply with quote

There are a couple of things:

http://sfr-inc.com/bb/viewtopic.php?t=3816
http://sfr-inc.com/bb/viewtopic.php?t=2714

And of course this:
Quote:
Acolytes of the Eldarim
They were the lonely legends of Esfah; the ancient race of Eldarim, Dragonhunters and Dragonmasters. Their power against dragons inspired awe; their might in arms and magic aroused wonder. Their solitary existence lasted for centuries. Whether they were originally of Nature or Death no one knew, but each held the power of one of Esfah’s elements in hand. A select few even gained power over all the elements, and became mighty Lords and Slayers.
Yet, although they were wanderers throughout the land, they attracted small groups of followers. The Eldarim began teaching these curious ones the powers of the elements they knew. As the acolytes gained control over their element, they also began to gain control over the elemental creatures of Esfah. True, they were no match for the dragons, but the dragonkin found in them kindred souls-elemental beings who were somewhat less than their mightier cousins. Skilled warriors, swift cavalry, crafty shield-bearers, and elemental mages learned to harness powers they had little dreamed of. Some of the very gifted were selected for advanced training in secret locations and rose to the status of Hunter or Master themselves.
Communities of these acolytes soon took root. As they did, they were drawn into the battles between the children of Nature and the minions of Death. They found welcome in many of the armies in the land, and even beyond. With their affinity to the Dragonkin, they brought a new, singular fury and new elemental powers to the battlefield.
Once again the balance of power in Esfah is changing-but who will gain from it?


There may be some other stuff, I just have to find it....
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chrisbogert
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 01, 2013 11:40 am GMT    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thank you very much.
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ddicerc
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 01, 2013 1:49 pm GMT    Post subject: Reply with quote

Do we still have the short story up on our web site? If not, I can post it here.
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chuckpint
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 01, 2013 3:17 pm GMT    Post subject: Reply with quote

If we do, I can't seem to find it. So please post it here.
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ddicerc
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 01, 2013 9:37 pm GMT    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Village on the Fringe

Aran’fil trudged to the top of the hill. The sun was approaching the horizon, and he knew it was time to find a place to rest for the night. The red of the last light of day gave a deeper hue to his scarlet armor and cloak, near to the color of the blood of the great wyrm he had slain two days ago. His body craved sleep, yet there would be little rest in the forest. Ah, well, he thought, let me see what is on the other side of this hill.

He crested the hill, and, though he was accustomed to surprises, Aran’fil’s eyes widened at the sight before him. He had not been this way for some time, yet he was certain there had never been a village on the shore of Lake Robronn. But there it was-small, true, yet with the appearance of the bustling life that accompanied the end of a day. Perhaps he could find someone to offer him a place to sleep, and perhaps a meal. His pace quickened as he headed downhill.

As Aran’fil approached the village, some of the villagers came out warily to eye him. The villagers were an odd lot-Aran’fil could swear that there were two Vagha™ near the closest house, yet over by the green he was sure that was a Morehl™ and a Trog™. His perplexity continued as a tall Selumari™ approached him.

“Greetings, traveler,” the elf said. “May I ask where you come from, and why you approach our village?”

“I come from nowhere,” Aran’fil answered grimly. “I am a wanderer, entrusted by Firiel with the duty of seeking out and slaying the cursed dragons that plague the lands. I come from my last battle, and seek my next. As for your village, I did not know it existed, but I come seeking shelter for the night if you would provide it.”

The Selumari™ inspected Aran’fil carefully. “A Dragonhunter,” he said finally. “We have few visitors here in Chupat, but one of the Eldarim is always welcome. My name is Sarlan. I am the village steward, and I will see to your needs.”

“Thank you, friend Sarlan,” Aran’fil replied. “I have gold with which to pay for your care, thanks to Yasaf the Fire Drake.” He chuckled ominously. “The battles are fierce, but Firiel allows the pay to be worth our devotion.”

“Nay, save your gold. Please allow us to entertain you ourselves,” Sarlan countered. “It has been so long since we had a traveler as distinguished as yourself, and we would gladly hear news of the world if you would share it with us.”

“I will share what I can,” Aran’fil answered, “although the news is not as good as you might hope. The divisions between the races of Esfah grow deeper, war threatens in many places, and the elemental forces rage unchecked.”

Sarlan chuckled dryly. “Divisions between races? Do you see our village?” He swept his hand toward the knot of villagers observing nearby. “No, there are divisions in the races. Everyone here, save the very youngest, is an outcast from their society. Many of us were mortal enemies in times past, but we have joined to eke out what living we can here in Chupat.”

“Chupat? ‘The Fringe’?” Aran’fil sounded both amused and amazed as the village name finally sank in. “Curious name, yet, if what you say is true, an apt one. I take it from the name that the Vagha™ were here first.”

“The Vagha™ and Morehl™ founded the village,” said Sarlan. “A group that sought to ally the races of Firiel, and were dishonored for their effort. They were joined by a band of Trogs™ despised for their desire for knowledge, and then by a few of us among the Selumari™ who sought to go beyond…well, the sins of the Selumari™ are best left to our own counsel. Suffice it to say, we have not been disappointed to be among the children of other gods.” Sarlan saw a Morehl™ maiden approaching with a large tray. “Ah, friend, come, let us eat and continue our talk with the others.”

Aran’fil respectfully and gratefully accepted the invitation, and moved with Sarlan to a nearby table under an ancient oak to refresh himself.
------
As Aran’fil ate, Sarlan introduced him to several other villagers. One Vaghan, Alric, whose body was stocky even by dwarven standards, had offered Aran’fil a bed for the night. After Alric assured him that the bed was an old Selumari™ bed, thus long enough for him, Aran’fil had accepted.

As Alric walked Aran’fil back to his house, he glanced about, then opened a conversation. “There are some here in the village that would welcome the opportunity to be taught by one such as yourself,” he began. “We have few among us with enough experience to pass on the ways of the land.”

Aran’fil regarded him curiously. “We of the Eldarim have ties to but one of the elemental gods,” he replied. “Save those few who rise to the rank of Lord or Slayer, we are dedicated to mastering a single element. I know only the path of fire, and follow only Firiel.”

He could have sworn he heard Alric chuckle. The dwarf lowered his voice further. “You would not find that an obstacle here.” He pointed to a stone shrine nearby. “Firiel is our protector, and we live to serve her only.”

“You have lost your connection to Eldurim?” Aran’fil was both shocked and curious. “What about the rest of your village? Whom do the Trogs™ and Selumari™ serve?”

Alric glanced around again as they approached his house. “Come inside,” he urged. “I will tell you more in there.”

After the two were seated near the fireplace, and Alric had brought out some dwarven ale (“Not as good as you would get in Balgavarr, but we make do,” he had apologized), Alric broached the subject again. “We of the Vagha™ and Morehl™ here in Chupat had sought to create an alliance between our two races, as well as other races of fire. We agreed to forsake Eldurim and Lord Death to focus our devotion on Firiel, and to probe the depths of Fire. For this, we were exiled from our kin, so we formed our own village as a matter of survival. Over the past two years, we have been joined by a handful of Selumari™ fascinated by Fire after their city had been overrun by the Empyrea, and an even smaller number of Trogs™ who abandoned the swamps for what they hoped would be a better life. All here-no matter what race-serve Firiel.”

Aran’fil sat silently for a moment. “I have never heard of such a thing, except among my own race,” he finally said. “For a race of Esfah to surrender its identity, and to seek only the power of one element, is surely unheard of until now.”

Alric shook his head. “Nay, we have heard rumors of others,” he countered. “Not followers of Firiel, but of Death or of Ailuril. Who knows but what there may be others?” He gave Aran’fil a keen look. “Would you consider my request? We truly could use a leader who could train us in the ways of Fire.”

“The Eldarim are wanderers, seeking the path chosen for us by our gods,” Aran’fil answered. “I could not stay and remain your leader here. Yet I am in great need to refresh myself after many battles. Perhaps I could remain for a short while, to train some of you in the path I follow.”

Alric nodded, appearing quite pleased. “That would be a great honor for us,” he said. “Whether for a short time or long, we thank you.”
------
It had been a year since Aran’fil had left Chupat on his latest mission. Tracking the wily fire wyrm Fasz had taken his company seven months, and planning and executing their attack four more. The battle itself seemed almost an anticlimax; Fasz had been much better at trickery and evasion than at straight combat. Perhaps he had anticipated that another party of Masters would be sent after him, rather than Hunters-and of course the mighty Slayer Ti-Klif, who had assembled them. With Fasz no longer an issue, and with a pack full of a share of the dragon’s hoard, Aran’fil once again crested the familiar hill, and looked down upon the rejuvenated village.

The shrine of Firiel shone with a red glow as two worshippers exited after depositing their offerings to their goddess. Aran’fil smiled; the sight of Selumari™ dressed in their red-trimmed robes still amused him after all this time. As he watched them walk away, however, Aran’fil noticed subtle differences. No, not so subtle after all-Larash was definitely sprouting a short green beard, and Sefanyah’s complexion had darkened from its normal bright blue to a purplish tinge.

Aran’fil paused and looked more carefully around the village. Goruk, the Trog™ clan chief, stood nearly erect near a small group of goblin trainees, and there was no doubt that his hairstyle was both longer and, well, spikier than any goblin Aran’fil had ever seen. Mascha, the Morehl™ councilor, had either been eating much better since his marriage to Amana, or was developing a rather stocky build for an elf. And as Alric, having seen Aran’fil approach, came up the path toward him, Aran’fil saw a look on his face that was vaguely familiar, yet not Vaghan in the least. Just before Alric arrived, he figured it out.

Aran’fil could swear Alric had the face of a Dragonslayer.

The dwarf called out his greeting. “Aran’fil! I take it Fasz in no longer among the active spirits of chaos?”

“Where his spirit lies, Firiel may know, but not I,” Aran’fil replied. “But how goes it in Chupat? I see much that has changed, although I cannot say why.”

“Nor can I,” answered Alric. “You have noticed the appearance of our race, then?”

“Your race? But you were four races,” Aran’fil said. “Yet as I look, each appears to take on the appearance of the others. And you, my friend, are starting to look like one of the Eldarim. I have never seen the like of it.”

Alric chuckled. “Nor does any of the lore known to the Elder Races speak of any such thing. Yet we believe that it is the blessing of Firiel. As we advance in her service, we begin to make a new race, a race of Fire, perhaps not much different from the Eldarim in our single-minded service. Perhaps the dreams that spawned the village may come more true than we anticipated.” Alric eyed the Hunter. “You look like you could use some refreshment. And I suspect you are not just passing by.”

“No, I have come to see the results of my ‘meddling,’ as some call it,” Aran’fil replied. “Yet it seems that perhaps my efforts are no longer needed. I could use a good ale, however.”

“I can supply that,” Alric returned. “But do not think that our training is complete. We are but acolytes in the service of Firiel, seeking to understand the ways of the Eldarim. We still seek greater ways to serve our mistress, and She has returned you to us. I think that is no coincidence.”

Aran’fil smiled. “I suspect not. Firiel knows our needs, all praise to the Fire. I will begin again in the morning. But first, that ale.” The two friends walked down the hill to the village, as the self-styled Acolytes began to approach to welcome to the Hunter.
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chrisbogert
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PostPosted: Mon Dec 02, 2013 4:39 am GMT    Post subject: Reply with quote

Very nice, that story gives me a good idea of what they are like and how they live. Kinda what I imagined them to be like.
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