This entry is part 11 in the series Orcs & Elves

I’ve got so much campaign prep to get done that if I don’t do it here, I’ll never get it done in time…

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While most of Chapter 21 had been done when I started this series, Chapters 22 and 23 were at best partially finished, which means my easy ride is over. In the end, it proved easier to complete these partially-written chapters properly (it was simply topo jarring going from finished paragraphs to draft paragraphs and back again. But these are the last chapters for a while that will be written in final form.

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Chapter 21

The Second Great Dwarfwar: Elvarheim Invasion

The Dwarves soon found trade to be a profitable exercise, especially the refined Adamant Ore. Mithral, they discovered, was a far more delicate material, too fragile to used for weapons or armor. It was pleasing to the eye, though, and light enough to be used for inlayed decorations; but even the most profligate such usage could not make a serious dent in the supply, as first hundreds and then thousands of ounces of the brittle metal accumulated. For close to 50 years, trade in foodstuffs, gems, and ore flourished, and was soon accompanied by the products of various crafts.

But eventually, and inevitably, the false peace was broken, as the Elves at last released their assault on the Dwarven caverns. Clouds of noxious fumes issued forth from the ventilation shafts; some of the Dwarven water-sources became blackened and foul-tasting, and soon proved toxic, while others simply dried completely; tree-roots the size of a Dwarf erupted from the walls, resistant to axe and flame, and knocked down supporting pillars, crushing whole communities in their cavernous homes; and rumors of strange creatures being encountered deep in the Dwarven tunnels were accompanied by the inexplicable disappearance of isolated Dwarves. While most of these can be accurately blamed on the creatures released by the Elvish Bladedancers, some were opportune kidnappings by the Drow, who were always eager to press others into their service. Even today, it is rumored that there are Drow Houses with Dwarven slaves hidden deep in the bowels of the earth, performing hard labors for the profit of their masters.

King Veldergrist was now elderly by Dwarvish Standards, but remained a vital and strong ruler; as a youth, he had ascended the throne, in his prime he had negotiated a friendship of sorts with the Drow, in his middle age he had managed trade between the two underground-dwelling races to the betterment of both, and now, as he approached his century of years, he faced the renewal of hostilities with a calm and grim determination to prevail.

He immediately sent word to the Drow Ambassador, and told him, “As your Mistress prophesied, so has it come to pass. Now is the time for plans long-held in abeyance to be realized. Long ago, She offered the aid of her Spellcrafters in a direct counterassault apon the surface; now we accept that offer, while they are distracted in the upper levels of our Mines. We ask also for increased shipments of food, that our remaining growers may be armed for war, and beg leave to repay this generosity in more sanguine times. And when we have prevailed, we should be most pleased to accept the offer of Spellcraft in undoing these unwarranted and unjustified assaults apon our realm.”

To which, the representative of the Spider-Queen replied, “We shall be most pleased to render unto you the aid that was promised so long ago by She Who Is Eternal. As I recall, there was also the offer of refuge from these travails for yourself, your immediate family, and a small cadre of Warriors, but you make no mention of this; I assure you, the offer remains open; will you accept our hospitality and shelter?”

And the Dwarf did reply with pride, “Eld may I be, but not yet in my dotage. My people will fight all the more stubbornly and proudly for the knowledge that we share in their discomforts. Not until the last possible moment will I abandon the protection of my people; they would accept nothing less of their King.”

“But surely,” said the Ambassador, “you would wish to see your wife and children escorted to a place of safety?”

“My wife refuses to leave my side, for which I am grateful, for she is the rock apon which I stand; and my children insist apon joining the ranks of those who will fight for our homes. I may be able to keep them from the front lines, where the dangers are greatest; beyond that, my authority seems to be somehow lacking.”

“Truly, a great Lord may master his people, but never his kin,” the Ambassador managed to announce, all the while contemplating how one of the House Mothers would react to such a statement. Were such a tragedy to befall him, the best for which he could hope was that his torment would be ended quickly lest others be exposed to such blasphemy! Truly, the Dwarves were ignorant savages to hold to such beliefs.

“Aye, in that you have the right of it,” replied the King.

“Very well, your Majesty. I shall depart at once to make the arrangements.”

And so it was that the Drow directed the Dwarves in how to tunnel beneath the roots of the forest of Elvarheim, and then nudged to one side those spellwoven defenses that lay between the bearded warriors and the heart of the Elven Realm. To those used to tunneling through hard stone and unyielding rock, the soft earth of the forest was the merest trifle, and progress was made at a prodigious rate. Even as the raiding party prepared to emerge, and the Drow spellweavers retreated down the tunnel, Deruan was leading the Bladedancers in renewed invasion of the Dwarven Mines, armed with a list of promises and guarantees to be demanded of the Dwarves before their surrender would be accepted.

The Spider-queen was at last on the verge of achieving Her initial purpose when She instructed Her people in how to instigate the conflict between the Elves and Dwarves, more than 70 years earlier.

The Dwarvish insurgency did not go undetected; even as they labored to complete their breach of the Elven forest, a youth serving the council as messenger felt what he regarded as a strange vibration in the earth, and an unsettling shudder of the leaves of the tree he was ascending. Being conscienscious, he dutifully reported his experience to the Council; but the Spellweavers employed their arts, and reported that the forest’s defenses were intact and undisturbed, and the warnings of the messenger were dismissed as youthful imagination and overexcitement. As a result, the Elves were totally unprepared when the Dwarves erupted from their tunnel.

It is ironic that of all the races, Elves, Orcs, and Dwarves are in many ways, the most alike. In all three of their cultures, everyone is expected to be able to defend themselves, and everyone acquires at least a minimal skill in some form of combat. For the Dwarves, hammers and axes are as natural as black leather is to a cutpurse; for the Orcs, it is broadblades, maces, or polearms; and for the Elves, longswords, bows, or the curved 14″ daggers known as Alkaith that the mages favor. Even the curved blades of the Bladedancers are reflections of this aspect of their fundamental natures. This is a truth that has been lost in the modern day. Curves are as natural to Elves as straight lines are to humans, and circles are to Halflings.

So it was that even with their official defenders engaged in the Mines by an ill-timed act of aggression – the product of decades of patience wearing increasingly thin, for it is a limited resource even in an Elf – the Dwarves encountered stiff opposition from the everyday Elves who happened to be passing that part of the forest at the time, and pitched battle erupted.

To understand why the Bladedancers had chosen this moment to renew their assault on the Dwarven mines, it is necessary to understand the strategy that had been conceived and executed by Deruan.

As is usually the case, battlefield reports – especially those of a dramatic nature – are frequently exaggerated. This truth was evident in hindsight to those who heard the reports of the Dwarves to their King, and in the King’s summation to the Drow Ambassador.

In reality, the Bladedancers were not indiscriminately targeting the Dwarven mineshafts and tunnels; rather, they were using their arsenal to restrict the tactical options of the Dwarves that they encountered, and restricting the battlefield to a direct – if convoluted – line to the chambers which contained the Dwarven Throne.

Elves are not pacificists, but do not engage in wholesale slaughter of bystanders; every death must be the only remaining alternative. This is one of the fundamental differences that separated them from the Drow; for their subterranean kin identified more with a racial collective or nationalist grouping of people instead of dealing with them as individuals; but this merely made them dangerous. It was for the love and adoration of their Dark Queen that they committed the most despicable, vile, heinous, and diabolical acts, because they did not perceive the targets as individuals in individual circumstances, but as members or representatives of an entire populace or population segment. (It is notable that when Drow behave thus, they always fail in the final analysis; only when engaging others as individuals, as their Ambassadors did with the Dwarven King, do they achieve success). The question of whether this failure of perception is due to Lolth, or inherent in those who follow the insect totems in general, or is a deficiency that drew them to others with the same flaw, is one that has endlessly been debated – without resolution).

Standing between the Bladedancers and their ultimate goal were four fortified salients, manned by grim and angry Dwarves who were predisposed to believe that they stood between arch-fiends bent on the slaughter of their entire race and their families and friends. They were prepared to fight to the last defender to protect their homes, just as the Elves of the central forest were fighting to protect their homes and families.

But the Bladedancers had planned, and practiced, and equipped themselves with specific weapons for the task that lay before them, while the Dwarvish incursion was assembled in haste, ill-prepared, and an act of desperation. No matter how analogous the two situations, they were predestined to have inevitably divergent outcomes. Even as the Bladedancers overran the first salient, penetrating the first line of Dwarvish defenses, and released their Spellwoven creatures into the side tunnels that did not lie apon their path to the Dwarvish King, the incursion that had transpired at the command of that ruler was itself being overcome and taken captive.

Chapter 22

The Second Great Dwarfwar: Captive Revelations

The Elves, quite naturally, were in a state of acute shock and distress over this invasion, which smacked to them of everything that they had feared since long before the Verdonne had been created. Like any people who had been violated in the area of their greatest cultural insecurity, they considered the Dwarvish invaders to be guilty of one of the most unimaginably heinous outrages possible, a crime that was unforgiveable. Though most of the invading Dwarves had been killed during the incursion, many had been captured; and the Elvish Council regathered to consider how this should be punished. Their deliberations were brief, and the council were preparing to announce their judgment, when one aged tracker stepped forward from the gathered crowd and interrupted them, demanding to examine the boots worn by the invaders more closely, for something was greatly amiss. Thus did Therialas reenter this narrative.

At a nod from the head of the Council, the Elves who had captured the Dwarvish invaders rudely stripped their prisoners of their footwear and brought the apparel before the tracker for inspection. None of the elves had ever considered the unique needs of an underground culture in terms of their footwear, and they were amazed by the craftsmanship as feature after feature became evident. The boots had a steel-reinforced toe-cup and articulated steel strips with jagged teeth down each side. The heels were layers of rigid leather held together by four recessed bolts which also passed through eyelets on the side-assemblies. These enabled the Dwarves, when climbing unstable and narrow ledges, to support their entire weight on the edge of a boot, or by their toes, or their heels; while leaving the centre of the boot extremely thin, soft, supple leather so that the wearer could ‘read’ changes in the surface beneath their feet. “How long have Dwarven boots had these teeth along the sides?” demanded the aged Tracker.

“Two hundred years or more. My son has just started wearing the pair crafted for my father when he was a child, and he is that old. We replace the soft leather and heels when they wear out and reuse the steel bindings,” came the surprised reply from one of the Dwarves. Examination of the other pairs of boots bore out the statement, revealing different levels of wear consistent with decades or more of use. The Council, while this inspection was underway, were growing impatient, and now demanded, “And what is the significance?”

“The boot prints at the site of the original destruction matched this design. The boot prints at the second attack, when the fires were directed toward Elvarheim, did not; they matched the designs that I saw as a youth when we pursued the Prince Of Lies. I felt perhaps that they were a new innovation, not available to common warriors, and thought no more about it. But if that were the case, you would expect at least a few of these to be wearing the old-style of footwear. I can only conclude that someone has manipulated us into this war for their own ends.” The Council immediately went into whispered conference. After a few minutes of serious exchange while the Dwarves waited anxiously – was the judgment against them about to be suspended? Had they been made cats-paws – and if so, by who? – the head of the council turned once again to address the prisoners. “Tell me your story again, Dwarf. And leave nothing out.”

If they were not already inclined to suspicion, the Dwarves might not have mentioned the trade alliance with the Drow; but the conversation had primed them to mention any involvement of non-Dwarves in their society, and history had made them doubly-suspicious. Hence it was not long before the Dwarves first mentioned the Drow Trading alliance and its terms. These only reinforced the suspicions of the listening Elves. They were intrigued by the mention of a metal too delicate for the Dwarven artisans to work, and fascinated by mention of the Black Gems that the Drow had found so irresistible. Especially tantalizing was a comment made by the Drow Ambassador implying that the Gems were somehow connected to the ability of the Drow to guide the Dwarves past the defenses of Elvarheim. Without those defenses, Elvarheim was completely exposed to any enemy; learning how to prevent future such incursions would forgive any offense resulting from the Dwarvish incursion, no matter how unforgivable that incursion might have seemed at first glance. It did not take the Elves much thought to uncover the rather more sinister “alternative interpretations” of the largess of the Drow, and to point these out to the Dwarves, who were suitably enraged by the prospects. The inadvertent mention of the use of one of the Black Gems to penetrate the defenses of the Elven forest makes it clear that the Gems – mentioned almost as an afterthought in the negotiations – held much greater significance and value than they first appeared.

At the same time, while the Dwarvish tale had the ring of truth to it, there remained the possibility that it was all a very plausible fiction. The Elves were not willing to simply ignore what had transpired, and release the Dwarves. After several hours of debate, the Council decided on a course of action, resentful of the urgency which prohibited serious contemplation of alternative courses of action. One prisoner would be released to act as an escort to an Envoy back to his people. That Envoy would be the Youngest Son of the King – while a member of the Royal Family and hence a Prince, he did not expect to inherit the title and hence had received some practical education. This Envoy would carry an offer of a cease-fire to the King of the Dwarves.

The Elves, notably, did not make it clear to their Dwarven Prisoners how little value they placed on the titles of Prince – or King, for that matter. To the Dwarves, this offer amounted to an exchange of Hostages of high Rank – one Prince for another – a serious gesture towards reconciliation.

Even as these revelations were uncovered and analyzed, the Huyundaltha were penetrating the second tier of defenses surrounding the seat of Dwarvish Power, breaking through the fortifications erected by the Dwarves after driving the defenders away from their positions with their weapons of noxious fume and poisonous gas. Only one last barrier now stood between them and the Civilian Dwarven population, including the Royal Family. As every foot of descent brought them closer to this final barrier, so the pressure on the Dwarven King to accept the Drow offer of Sanctuary increased; already, many of his advisors and personal guard urged him to reconsider his refusal. Only the hope of a victorious conclusion to the bold raid into the Elven homeland stayed his decision.

The companions bearing the offer of an armistice were engaged in a desperate race. Could they reach the Dwarven King before Lolth succeeded in annexing the Dwarven Tunnels?

Chapter 23

The Second Great Dwarfwar: War’s End

Even though the passage was relatively straight, without the maze of turnings and tunnels that marked most Dwarven tunnels, it was still a journey of over 60 leagues – more than 200 miles – to the heart of the Dwarven Kingdom. Even at a forced march, and resting for the minimum possible time, it was still going to be four long days journey, probably more.

The pair caused quite a sensation when they staggered, almost falling over themselves in exhaustion, into the court. Dirty, dusty, covered in blood, and bleeding from numerous wounds, they interrupted the King as he was desperately sending reinforcements to the front lines, now less than a mile from the civilian population. He immediately ordered the Elven messenger taken captive and summoned a healer to attend the Dwarven Warrior, who had passed out in mid-salute.

As the Elven messenger attempted to declare the purpose of his mission, one of the Dwarves covered his mouth and instructed him to speak only when spoken to. It was at this moment that the Drow Ambassador swept into the chamber, with his escort. As he observed the captive Elf, he froze, hissing in alarm. “Ah, Aberzherisharde, come in. Fear not, the Elf is restrained. His kind are another matter,” announced the King. “It may be that temporary refuge for our citizens will become necessary before we succeed in repelling their attack. Is your Queen’s offer of sanctuary still open?”

Recovering, the Drow Ambassador replied, “It is, your Majesty. Do you wish me to send runners to advise her of your acceptance?”

“To describe our condition as ‘Acceptance’ would be premature. But since we may need to move to such a position without further warning, I wish to make all the arrangements – should the need become pressing. My paramount duty must be to my honor, but my duty to my subjects is only barely the lesser.”

“As always, a wise decision, Your Majesty. I shall request that the appropriate preparations commence immediately.”

The Drow Ambassador bowed stiffly, and – after another glare at the helpless prisoner – withdrew from the royal chambers. As he exited, the Dwarven escort awoke with a groan. “Easy, warrior,” said the King gently. “What is your unit, and how came you to escort this prisoner from the front lines?”

“I am Kazeth, your Majesty, and I was part of the strike force into the forests of Elvarheim. My companion is Prince Elbareth, and he carries an offer of armistice. Our strike force has been captured with heavy casualties, My Liege.”

“What of my son?”

“The Prince survives and is being well-treated,” replied Kazeth.

The warrior then recounted the full tale of the incursion, its capture, interrogation, and his return in the company of Prince Elbareth. “As we left the passage dug specifically for the invasion and entered our familiar tunnels, we were unexpectedly attacked by a monstrosity the likes of which I ever imagined. It had two heads, and was lizard-like, but with great tusks projecting from a grotesque jaw. Razor-sharp spikes fanned out along the bestial spine, rippling with every movement of the beast. And it moved like lightning, bounding from wall to wall, clinging to ceilings, and twisting the path of its bounds in mid-air as though gravity were its personal servant.”

“No doubt one of the monstrous creatures that the Elves have released into the tunnels to bedevil us,” replied the King.

“Perhaps, your Majesty, though it seemed as surprising to Elbareth as to myself. In any event, it took the both of us striving to our utmost to drive the beast off.”

“Release the Elf,” directed the King. “Prince of the tree-lovers, I reject your offer of Armistice. Your offer smacks of desperation, and perhaps explains the intensity of your current incursion. I had, in my mind, explained that as simple fanaticism, but desperation seems a more likely fit. You will remain here, a hostage to the good treatment of my Son. If and when he is liberated or repatriated, so shall you be – I give you my word of honor.”

“Your Majesty, Mighty King of those who dwell beneath the mountain, you cannot reject an offer until it has been made. I beg your leave to formally present the proposal of the Elven Council before you issue your judgment in this matter, and permission to return to my people with your reply. Should you grant this, and should your son grant surety that he will not come against us in battle once more, I will insist apon his being released to you as a gesture of good faith.”

“I trust you not, tree-lover. Seek not to beguile me with your artfully-honeyed words.”

“I think you confuse me with some of my detested Kinfolk, your Majesty,” replied the Prince. “But is your honor so great that it can tolerate the confinement of an Envoy of peace? How many of your warriors, women, and children will perish while you delay – lives that could be spared, if my offer is genuine? For I swear apon the spirit of my Deity, the lordly Corellan, that this is no deception. May he strike me down if I speak falsely.”

The King stiffened, stung by the accusation of dishonor. “Very well, speak your piece. But I will hear of no insults to our loyal and valued allies, the Drow,” he warned.

“No insults, nor even accusations, your Majesty. Mere questions. Should you know the answers, you will be satisfied; but should you not, is not the possibility of deception worth considering? For both our peoples are children in comparison to the webs of deceit of which the Queen of the Spiders is capable. Her subjects worship her as a deity, and with some justification, for she is nearer to that state than you or I, or any that are mortal. Our most subtle planning may look forward a decade or two, a generation at the most; beyond that span of years, we seek simply to create an environment in which the lot of our subjects and families are better than those we have known, in the hopes that they will be able to take advantage of the opportunities we have procured for them by stint of our labors. Being immortal, her plans may encompass centuries. My questions are these: Of what value is a metal that is too delicate to be worked? Why are gemstones which enable the learned to penetrate defenses erected and reinforced over the passage of centuries but an afterthought, accorded little value in your negotiations? You are promised refuge in the tunnels of her Drow, but are you assured of your ability to come and go and rule amongst your people as you see fit? Will your people not be required to pay for such refuge with service and subservience to the laws of your hosts? What of the law that mandates the worship of Lolth, whose violation even in seeming, brings death? The creations with which our people now assault yours are fearsome and bestial, but still recognizably akin to their progenitors; whence, then, came the monstrosity which Kazeth described to you? For if we did not create and release it, who did, and for what purpose? The tunnel in which it was encountered does not connect with those apon which our forces proceed, save here, behind your lines, so how came it to be where–”

Abruptly, the Elven Prince fell to the floor, collapsing. His body shuddered and then was still.

“So he spoke false, and his God has punished him. Let that be an end to it,” muttered the King. “We will crush them, and liberate my son from his captivity. Have a company of warriors prepared,” he instructed a page.

“I heard no falsehood, your Majesty. If I may be permitted?” replied Kazeth, gesturing toward the body.

“Nor I, but falsehood there must have been. Go ahead,” answered the King.

Quickly examining the body, Kazeth gave a startled gasp. Rising, he held out something for the King’s inspection. “I think not, your Majesty. Unless the God Of The Elves employs poisoned darts of Drow manufacture to enforce his will.”

“Who would dare to besmirch my honor? I gave my word that he would be well-treated,” replied the King, his temper flaring.

“No-one who valued honor would do so, your Majesty. And if an Elf could reach us here, you would have been his target, not Prince Elbareth. That leaves only a third party. I must ask you to consider one final question in his name, as a bandage to your wounded honor – did you not find his questions troubling? For you answered none of them, and your son could not do so. Indeed he sent this to you,” replied Kazeth, retrieving a patch of parchment and a ring.

Gasping, the King inspected the items.

On the parchment were the words, ‘Father, I believe them.’ “He chose this ring to authenticate the message, knowing that you would know that had it been written under duress he would have included his seal of Rank and not his personal signet, as a signal to you. If the assassin was not one of us, and would not have been an Elf, it must have been a third party. And only one third party is involved here, and they only stood to gain if the charges were truthful. Prince Elbareth did not accuse them, nor – as per your instructions – did he insult them. I do both, my Liege. The Ambassador and his people are without honor, and have deceived us into fighting their war for them. I demand the right to confront the Ambassador with these questions.”

Wearing an expression that mirrored both troubled thoughts and a stern anger, the King instructed, “Summon the Ambassador Aberzherisharde. He is to come immediately. Do not accept a refusal,” he instructed two members of his personal guard.

A few minutes later, the pair returned, empty-handed. “The Drow delegation appears to have fled, Your Majesty,” explained the more senior of the two. “We found these in his quarters,” he added, holding up a pair of darts identical to that which had taken the life of the Elven Prince.

“I uphold your challenge to the honor of the Drow, Kazeth,” replied the King. “Give instructions to hunt them down. Let them never return to the Queen which sent them forth,” he instructed. “I will accept the offer of Armistice. Prepare a formal honor guard – we travel through the tunnel to Elvarheim. Have the body of the Prince interred amongst those of my ancestors, for no less than my family, he was under my protection when he died. Until my honor is washed clean of that stain, he will remain so.”

Not unexpectedly, there was an immediate outcry amongst the King’s advisors. “This might still be deception on the part of the Elves,” they argued. “Another may have followed Kazeth and the so-called Prince to assassinate him for the purpose of bringing about this accord,” said another. “We have them on their knees, your Majesty. Do not give away the victory now,” advised a third. “The Ambassador may merely have been fearful that the Elf would deceive you,” chorused a fourth.

“All true, replied the King. But they have earned the right to negotiations in good faith with blood, and seemingly at the hands of one who claimed to respect our ways. I do not say that I am convinced – merely that I will give them the opportunity to prove their claims.”

Three hours later, the King – with full honor guard – set out down the invasion route to the heart of the Elven Forest.

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The Ongoing Elvish Glossary

  • Alkaith: Curved 14-inch dagger favored as a weapon and general cutting tool by Elvish Spellcasters and some High Elves.
  • Arnost: Simple Speech (Modern “Common”, a human tongue)
  • Arrunquessor: Plains Elves
  • Ayer: Nuthanori word meaning “Squat”. Mont Ayer is the name of one of the two peaks that define the traditional elvish lands.
  • Calquissir: High Elves
  • Corellan: The First
  • Drow: “Those Who Dwell Apart” (in Nuthanorl). Added to Ogre by the Drow with the meaning of “Smart”.
  • Ellessarune: The “Shining City” of the Tarquessir, home of the Elvish King and capital of the Elven Lands to this day.
  • Eltrhinast: “Guiding Spirit”
  • Elvarheim: “Blessed Leafy Home”: The Elven Forest, homeland of the Tarquessir and the centre of Elven Power in modern times
  • Gilandthor: “The Gathering”, the formal title of the Elvish Council.
  • Hithainduil: High Elven Language
  • Huyundaltha: “Masters Of The Ondaltha” (literal), “Bladedancers” (colloquial). Formerly Noletinechor, now Guardians Of Elvish Society.
  • Ondaltha: A two-weapon combat style based apon Elvish Dance, practiced exclusively by Huyundaltha.
  • Illvayssor: “The Other”, a mythical race
  • Isallithin: “The Sundered”, a name applied to Aquatic Elves
  • King: A human title interpreted by Elves as “speaker to others” and defined as such within their language.
  • Magi: A corruption of the Zamiel word “Machus”, which means “of the wise.”
  • Mithryl: the Elvish name of an extremely fragile metal given in trade by the Dwarves to the Elves. The word is imported from Dwarven, who in turn obtained it from the Zamiel Tongue name of the metal, “Mithral”. “Mithryl” means “Moonsilver” in Elven. The word also enjoys popular usage as a metaphor for a treasure found which appeared initially worthless.
  • Mithral: the Drow name for Mithryl. A literal translation from Zamiel is “Shadowsilver”.
  • Mont: Nuthanori word meaning “High Place”. Used human-style in the naming of Mountains.
  • Noletinechor: “Lore Shields”, an elvish historical vocation
  • Nuthanorl: Low Elven Language, Common Elven
  • Sarner: A human abbreviation of the Hithainduil word “Saranariuthenal” which means, literally, “Swift and Wide”. The River Sarner runs through the central valley of Elvarheim.
  • Tarquessir: Forest Elves
  • Thuyon: Nuthanori word meaning “Tall Spires”. Mont Thuyon is the name of the taller of the two peaks that define the traditional elvish lands; Modern Elvarheim lies between the foothills of Mont Thuyon and the River Sarner.
  • Verdonne: “Quickbranch”, an artificial race created by Elves to be “The Guardians Of The Forest”.
  • Zamiel: Drow Language

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Next time: Now we’re into material that only exists in note form, so I’m not sure how far I’ll get. If all goes according to plan, next time will show how the aftermath of the War permanently reshaped Elven and Dwarven Societies in Chapters 24 through 26. Join me next week to see how much I actually get done….

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Orcs & Elves Series:
  1. Inventing and Reinventing Races in DnD: An Introduction to the Orcs and Elves series part 1
  2. Inventing and Reinventing Races in DnD: An Introduction to the Orcs and Elves series part 2
  3. Inventing and Reinventing Races in DnD: An Introduction to the Orcs and Elves series part 3
  4. Inventing and Reinventing Races in DnD: An Introduction to the Orcs and Elves series part 4
  5. Inventing and Reinventing Races in DnD: An Introduction to the Orcs and Elves series part 5
  6. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 1-4
  7. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 5-10
  8. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 11-14
  9. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 15-17
  10. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 18-20
  11. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 21-23
  12. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 24-26
  13. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 27-28
  14. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 29-31
  15. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 32-36
  16. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 37-40
  17. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 41-43
  18. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 44-46
  19. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 47-51
  20. Inventing and Reinventing Races in DnD: An Orcish Mythology
  21. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 52-54
  22. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 55-58
  23. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 59-62
  24. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 63-65
  25. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 66-68
  26. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 69-70
  27. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 71-73
  28. Who Is “The Hidden Dragon”? – Behind the curtain of the Orcs and Elves Series
  29. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapter 74
  30. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 75-77
  31. On The Origins Of Orcs, Chapters 78-85