StoryIt is said that on the eve of spring, the elfkin druid Bear sat on the crest of B1 hill, contemplating the way forward for their fledgling race. They could leave this despicable, tree-slaying hive of villiany, yes, but she refused. Elfkin were a proud race - at least they had been for the single week of their existence. No, this was about so much more. This was about grace and dignity. This was about their destiny to show the world who was the superior race in Ineth Zafal.
She turned to her fellow elfkin, half of whom were rolling in flowers, the other half munching on grass. An eclectic bunch, but as the beginning of a new elven race, they would do.
“My fellow elfkins! Behold, the injustice they have inflicted upon our budding kind. Banished, to the edge of civilization, where even the rodents dare not scrounge. Cast forth into the wilds, with nary a drip nor cloth. But hear my tongue, such travesties will only be the seed of our rise. For it is here, in the wilds, where we are precisely at our strongest!"
Druid Bear leapt up onto a nearby branch, or at least she tried to, for she was still a dwarf, and dwarves were short and don’t climb trees. In the end, after several awkward minutes of humping up a tree bark, she settled on a large mushroom instead. “Hear the melody of the birds sing! Smell the bounty of fruits rotting! Witness the dance of the wild and its inhabitants, in all its resplendent glory and death!”
“We are like the sapling cast aside from its tree, which then grows tall into the canopy. Our ascent shall blot out the sun of those lesser shrubs, and it is when all of Ineth Zafal stands under our shadow, shall they recognise who are their lord and superiors. Praise be to the Grand Trunk, from which all life flows from.”
A hand raised amongst the masses. It was Mouse, and she squeaked. “But Durpul, wh-“
“
The nerve! The conceit! To address me by my dead name, which was banished the moment they cast us out into the wilds! You will either address me as Druid or the elfkin name Bear, else thy tongue shalt remain silent!”
“Sorry s-s-orry, b-b-but Druid Bear, what b-be the Grand Trunk to begin w-w-with?”
“Foolish Mouse, I see you have much to learn of the ways to be an elfkin. Throughout all of history, each great tree city has had a Mother Tree as the focal point of their worship. And so shall we. The Grand Trunk shall be the spiritual centrifuge of the Elfkin rise in Ineth Zafal. Here, in this tile, at the heart of this wretched place they call Bee-One.”
It is said that at this mention, many of the elfkin lapsed into a period of contemplative silence, presumably reflecting upon the nature of such an undertaking upon their spiritual chakras.
“So… are we going to plant a tree?" asked Buffalo.
Druid Bear rolled her eyes.
“No Buffalo, you dullard. We’re going to build one.”
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Topic: Ineth Zafal, a Humankin fortress (Read 34483 times)