I have always loved Arlathan.
Even when I was so young I couldn't walk, speak, or read I thought the city was more beautiful than anything else I had ever seen. I can remember to this day the scent of the ocean air, and the sensation of the grass beneath my bare feet.
But of course nothing good can remain forever. I remember the centuries leading up to the end of my people's civilization just as vividly as I can remember my first day in that majestic city.
The beginning of the end came quietly, shrouded in subtlety, and hidden behind in plain sight for to see.
The beginning of our end came with our first encounters with the Quick Children, the Humans.
In truth the meeting itself was a harmless thing fraught with much fascination, fear, and curiosity. My people were delighted at the encounter. We were overcome with our desire to learn as much as we possibly could about these new people and their customs. Or at least we were at the beginning.
Very soon the Elves that spent great lengths of time around the Shemlen began to notice that slowly, but surely, their bodies that had remained on the same state that it had been in the twentieth summer began to change.
It was a subtle change, unremarkable really in the grand scheme. Or so we thought until one of our own died of causes we could not determine. Malthalan was a good friend of the Shemlen and spent many of his years giving them aid whenever he had the time to spare. He was the first Elf to die of old age.
Malthalan's death through my people into a panic. The discovery that the very presence of the Quick Children could taint our bodies to the point of bring death down on us as we slept was the most terrifying realization to ever become known to the Elven people.
With speed that I at the time thought impossible my people banished every human in our empire to the land the humans ruled by the name of the Tevinter Imperium. The banishment of human to their own lands calmed my people and our lives went on until the Magisters of Tevinter grew afraid of the incredible magics of the elven people and sought to preemptively destroy us before we could take action against their empire.
So began the great war between the Elven people and the Tevinter Imperium.
My kind called forth incredible magics the likes of which had never before been seen, even by elven eyes, in order to defend our lands. Entire forests of trees were animated to fight the armies of Tevinter and the very earth shook and cracked beneath the feet of Tevinter soldiers causing many to fall deep i to the earth never to be seen again.
But to every great working of elven magic the Magisters had an answer.
They casted forth vast columns of flame to burn the Slyvans and pulled the parted earth back together with powerful magic. Only to respond to our challenge by calling on the potent powers of blood magic to ravage my people with waves of sanguine power.
We tried all we could to repel our attackers, and for many years we slowed their invasion to a measly crawl.
But everything changed when Arlathan fell.
Thousands of slaves were sacrificed to provide the power required to fuel the spell the Magisters used to send the great city crumbling into the sea.
After that great loss the elven people soon fell to the power of Tevinter and a vast majority of the survivors were enslaved. Including me.
Over the centuries the famed immortality of the elven people was slowly eroded until not even newly born elves retained our once renowned longevity.
Or at least most of us lost our timeless youth.
I never did.
I don't know why I'm immune to what my people called the Quickening, but my unique immunity became a source of great danger for me over the next few centuries.
But I'll leave the details of that story for later.
In the meantime I would like to tell you of the greatest adventure I ever embarked on.
So gather close my friends, and listen well for my story is full of everything you could ever ask for. Action, adventure, romance, drama and intrigue.I can practically taste your curiosity, fine then I'll not delay any longer as I present to all who wish to hear it.
The Tale of Ithandalis Fay.
