Happy belated New Year my dearest Steemers,
I suppose my seasonal depression is at it's highest peak right now as I see families and friends gathering around fireplaces, dining room tables, and evergreen firs to gossip about familial triumphs and failures. Too often I envision my own numerous friends and family members I have collected over the years sitting there with me, sipping spiked hot chocolate, wearing garlands, and eating fire seared turkey and sweets.
I still have a few friends in this "lifetime", but I don't have any of my children with me... they have all gone to play among the stars.
Again, I do apologize for my ramble. During the winter season I tend to reflect upon those whom I have loved greatly, and all of those whom I have lost.
But no matter, I promised you in my very first confession that I would divulge more details of my past, the life I lead before I became ever lasting. I do hope that you've had or currently are having you're coffee, for this will take a pretty minute.
I was born during the summer time of the year that the final snow of the long winter has finally melted away.
The world was finishing emerging from it's deep slumber, and with the snow that had melted away, magi flourished and covered the world. That was the word we used to call, "magic". It wasn't spells and incantations at first; it was something that was apart of you, and external and internal energy that you could access to do wondrous things, or very destructive things.
Moving away from magi, the landscape was entirely much different than what anyone here has seen. The mountains made Everest look like a hill, reaching past the skies and into the heavens. Only the dragons and snow fae dared to venture to their snowy heights. The forests in the land I grew up were akin to the Red Woods in California; tall, thick, with deep memories and strong roots. The elven population had long ago settled into that leafy home, but the forest's true masters were the faes. Sadly, they were already a dying population; the 1,000 year war with the elves can be thanked for that. And yes, my dears, that information was well known history and occurred well before I was born.
There were many, many races that populated the earth; in fact, humans were merely a small, but growing percentage of society. Before I dive into that, I must ask you a question:
Have you ever played or heard of the Elder Scrolls Saga? It includes Oblivion, Daggerfall, Skyrim, Knights of the Nine, ect. Akin to that game (which I do have a funny story about that game in particular), we to had a number of elven and also a number of Orc races.
We had the High Elves with all of their grace, beauty, and conceitedness. As you can see from the game, the creator didn't care for High Elves very much. During my first life, even other high elves didn't care for their higher classed family. Although their beliefs and shallow values brought their internal ugliness to life, they did not have yellow tinted skin, no; their skin color ranged from the whitest of silk to the darkest of ebony. They were a truly beautiful race with very powerful magic.
The wood elves existed as well, and the game captures them well in a sense. They were shorter than their other elven families, but where they lacked in height they gained in wit and speed. The High Elves will agree otherwise, but the wood elves were much more limber and more in sync with the earth herself. My best friend was a wood elf named Eaalia, and I've never met a more sharp minded tracker as she.
The Dark Elves were not grey toned as portrayed in the game. Well, some of them were, but again, skin color greatly ranged. One of the few things that I wished the creator of the Elder Scrolls games got correct were their exquisite eye colors and the power that they had. The Dark Elves had eye colors that ranged between deep, royal purple to forget-me-not blue to sunflower yellow to emerald green. And when they actively used their power, they could look you in the eye and do a number of things: Make you forget a memory, gain a memory, temporarily feel an emotion, become their servant, ect.
Because of their potential, they were highly discriminated against by the humans, but it was encouraged and manipulated by the High Elves. Very sad indeed, but the Dark Elves were very fluent in magi. Again, the High Elf population will hotly argue against this fact, but it has been observed that they were the first elves in all of creation to be blessed with magi.
The Snow Elves... They still exist, I'll have you know. They're in the dwindling isolated parts of the world ensuring that the Earth doesn't die from the toxic shit we have been putting into her. They are not deformed nor defiled as the game as showed, but they did suffer enslavement at the hands of the High Elves.
There was also the elves of the sea, known as the Del Mer. It's been many, many years since I have encountered one; the pollution of this world has severley limited their population. You can most likely guess that they are what this world would call "mermaids." If you ever encounter this frightening and enchanting race, you best be wearing some sort of armor, for they will shank you.
I believe I have gone into such a detailed description about the elven races that dotted the landscape of my childhood, and I really should dive into the Orc races; but I'm straying away from my story and it demands to be heard. You will have your details about the great Orc races, just stayed tuned.
My father...I think you would have liked my father. Everyone, minus my mother, did. He was kind-hearted, forgiving to a fault, and his heart was filled with wisdom that he had gathered from his 200 years of life. He was a tall, freckled face warrior with a thick scar across his nose that did a funny crinkle motion when he laughed. My father was a halfling; half high-elf, half human, but he bore no ill will to any races nor held any high regard for the bloodline within him. He was a good man, a wonderful father, and an admiral warrior... but a weak king.
My mother is a completely different story. Taller than my father, pale like moonlight with hair as velvet and dark as the midnight sky, she was a vision of perfection and the poster girl for necromancy. Coming from a legendary clan of the dark faes, her magi burned hot and deep within her, and her upbringing of politics and toil made her a perfect candidate to rule a kingdom. During her long-lived reign of terror and crushing cruelty, she was known as the Wolf Queen. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?
The marriage between her and my father was an arranged one that brought two disputing nations together, and a for about 150 years there was a peace among their two home nations.
My father raised me with all of the love and gentleness as he could muster, and I in return began to grow into my winter cold mother. Wild, rebellious, and stubborn, I would purposely sneak into my mother's sorcery chambers and meddle with her experiments. I would steal gold pieces from my father's treasury room and would purposely the precious soul glasses that contained valuable memories of those who have long left the world.
More often than not, my mother would catch me and punish me extensively, but I would rather be caught by mother than my father. When my father would find his stolen items within my grasp or room, his normally warm hazel-eyed gaze would grow cold and dim with disappointment and it felt as though all of the warmth of the air was sucked away. I absolutely hated disappointing my father, whom I so adored, but at the time it felt as though I couldn't help myself but to be naughty.
As naughty as I was as a child, I was a very quick learner of the arcane arts and swordsmanship. Magi came to me easily, as to be expected of someone from this royal bloodline, but my mother refused to teach me her techniques or to share her knowledge. Part of the reason that I would steal her books were to learn her secrets, and as stated before her punishments were harsh and cruel. Although the punishments were cruel, I wanted to believe that perhaps she wanted, in her own twisted way, to protect me from the difficult spells and enchantments she was devising, not knowing at the time that she was neck deep into necromancy.
Let's start at the age where my story truly began. Taking after my mother with the dark hair, pale skin, and blue eyes, I was tall for my age at twelve years old. I remember being locked away in my room with angry tears running down my stinging cheeks, stinging as I was slapped by my mother for, again, stealing one of her books.
I remember feeling so angry and frustrated, but underlying all of those red hot emotions was the grey sea of sadness. I didn't steal the books this time to devour their knowledge; I just wanted my mother to look at me, to notice me, to speak to me even if it was to berate me for doing something that I wasn't supposed to. It wasn't due to the abuse of my face that caused me to cry that morning, no. At that young age, I wanted to believe so many different things, one of them being that my parents loved each other.
Me being me, I had pick locked my wooden bedroom door and slipped out into the stone hallway, ever so quietly sneaking through the castle to attempt stealing something sweet from the kitchens. The kitchens were down on the first level, so I had to sneak past my father's study to get to the staircase. As I was sneaking by, I overheard something that changed my heart forever.
"Why do you think she's acting like this? For shits?" Came the angry voice of my father from behind the study door. "Potella, that's her way of screaming for attention that you never give her."
"And why should I give that brat any sort of attention?" The cool voice of my mother always shot ice through my veins. "She's your daughter; do with her as you will."
There was a dull thud of something hard landing on a hard surface. "She is your daughter as well! Gods, how can you be so damn cold to her? She acts just like you, she's trying to study to be you." The anger was draining from his voice, and the higher pitch of desperation took it's place. Yes, desperation... I have never heard him speak like that before. "Potella, she loves you; I love you. We're you're family; shouldn't we matter to you more than-"
His voice went silent and there was a gargled, choking sound. Ice shot through my veins and everything within me screamed at me to run, to shout for help, but I was frozen to the spot, useless.
"I will say this once, so listen well, Gandal," her voice was soft and cool like a velvet rope tightening around your neck. "I do not love you." The gargled sound came again, but I couldn't help but feel that that was a sad choked sound. "And I do not love that girl. You both have always been and forever will be a means to an end."
The choking sound was then replaced with a coughing and harsh breathing. "Potella..."
That was about the time I ran back to my room, my bare feet making the small pit pat sounds on the hard stone floor. I was amazed that I had made it back to my room and had locked the door, crying my eyes out at my mother's cruel words.
And that day, my dears, was the first day that I have ever experienced heartbreak. Oh, trust me, that wasn't the last day either.
After that day, my father had tutor after tutor walk through my bedroom door to teach me magi, swordplay, and well read ladies who were to teach me proper etiquette as I reached my mid teen years. By the time I was fifteen years old, I was a well known little heathen that was only ever pacified by going on small adventures with my father.
We've never spoken to each other about that day, but it seemed like he knew that I had listened at the door that day. From that day forward, we grew closer and developed a bond that I feel never, ever forget. He had my back, and I his...
One day as my father and I went into the Fae Lumos Forest that was near the kingdom to hunt, he proceeded to tell me that he and my mother were expecting guests from the Northern Isle to come pay them a visit.
"Oh?" I had commented lazily, my mind more on the hunt at hand than on the older men from a strange land.
My father sighed deeply and spoke in a weary voice that he only used when speaking honestly, "Gaeli."
Merely saying my name made me turn my blue eyes to him, giving him my whole hearted attention.
Sighing again, he rubbed his forehead, causing alarm to jolt through me. When he did that, that meant ill bearing news was about to be delivered. "Our guests are coming to pay us homage and to create a trading treaty. That being said, something is needed to be exchanged for their trading services... and that would be you, my dear. Someone of their royal blood will be marrying you."
I had been expecting this kind of news sooner or later, so I wasn't shocked nor floored, but I was slightly surprised that it was going to happen so soon. "Well," I smirked, "They can try."
"Gaeli," my father turned his worried hazel eyed gaze upon me, "A grand number of kingdoms with promising leaders have sought us out to marry you, mainly for business purposes, and for your mother's beauty as well."
"Well, it's not my mother's beauty if I'm the one wearing it, is it?" I had asked, purposely brushing thick black hair behind me in a dramatic fashion.
"Gaeli," frustration leaked into his voice, "All of those suitors have been refused my your mother. Every single one of them. The men that are coming to us soon are from a kingdom of your mother's choosing, and my dear child, they are dark creatures with evil wills. The marriage may happen here on our soil, but I cannot protect you from whatever they do on their land."
You can imagine the surge of panic and fright that filled me. After my eyes have been opened up to my mother's lack of love, I have witnessed her perform a number of horrible and frightening things to traitors and prisoners whom she dubbed her test subjects. If these visitors were chosen by that wicked witch, then my fate was doomed to be a dreadful one. I remember my shoulders slumping down and my father must have seen the fear shining in my eyes.
"Oh Gaeli, my girl, it's going to be alright-"
"How in the seven hells is it going to be alright when you just told me that I'm literally fucked!?" I exclaimed at him, my somewhat deep voice taking on a higher pitch.
He didn't seem bothered by my foul mouth, his eyes still warm and affectionate. "Gaeli, please take in a breath and breathe. You're not going to be marrying anyone, at least not to those monsters. Please note that I had asked you to pack for a week long hunt."
It took me a moment or two to overcome the panic coursing through me, but I soon understood the implication behind his statement. "You want me to run away... but, father, I can't leave you with her!"
"Oh my dear," my father chuckled, "I've handled your mother for quite some time now and I don't expect her to kill me off just yet. You need to worry about yourself," his rough hands pulled me into a tight hug, the kind of hug that makes any child regardless of their age feel safe. "I've taught you how to hunt, how to defend yourself. I know that you can make it out there in this world."
I remember burying my face into his tunic, remember the hot tears going down my face. "Must we say goodbye so soon? Our hunt merely began."
"No, not just yet," his voice was softer, the vibrations of his voice against my ear soothing my heartache of saying goodbye. "I want to escort you to the other end of the forest and make sure that you make it out of here alright."
I chuckled in the awful way that you do when you've been crying, "Oh? I thought that you wanted to spend some time with me before I go."
"Well, that's always a plus, my daughter."
I'll leave that be for now; please understand that although it's been thousands of years since those fateful moments, thinking back to them always brings back those deep emotions no matter how deep the scars. And although I have always treasured each and every moment that I've spent with my own children, I always feel a void within me that only my dear father can fill.
That's all for now my dears. Did you have any questions about the races that dotted my youth? Any details you would like to know about mother dearest? Feel free to ask; I'll be more than happy to elaborate in my next confession.
Until next time.
Image Source:
https://w-dog.net/wallpaper/night-dark-snow-light-light-night-snow/id/339311/
https://imgur.com/r/Stellaris/IqRaESH
https://www.pinterest.com/kram10164/warriors/
https://aminoapps.com/c/tesamino/page/item/potema-septim/1Jro_JmaurIz25qabDWZxroGJ55aPzE25zp+
https://wuestenhagen-imagery.photoshelter.com/image/I0000BVsyvRREB6A